I had hoped that you’d kiss me. Not with an adult hope that lives, with a rueful shrug, beyond experience. But with a naïve hope I’d forgotten; the boundless hope of the completely impossible. And you did! Amongst the cars and the trees and the ochre light. The corners of the books you’d brought for me digging into my side. An impatient kiss. Hungry. Quick and stolen and filled with surprise. Your hands barely touching me. Your grey eyes closed. And as I walked away, I was thinking only that I wanted you to kiss me again.