Wordsmoker

You see a guy on the dance floor. He likes to dance in this pure kind of way, his eyes closed, ecstatic in the music. He’s not cruising like everyone else. His abandon invites your abandon, you dance too. With your eyes closed. Though you sneak peeks. Soon enough, you are dancing together, and this is how you meet. He tells you his name is Omar. You exchange numbers. Later in the week, you meet up, talk all night. At some point, you say, “I can’t believe I don’t even know your whole name.” He gets bashful, seems reluctant to tell you. “You’ll laugh.” “I won’t!” I won’t, you think. “My name is Omar Sharif.” You laugh.

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You see a guy on the dance floor. He likes to dance in this pure kind of way, his eyes closed, ecstatic in the music. He’s not cruising like everyone else. His abandon invites your abandon, you dance too. With your eyes closed. Though you sneak peeks. Soon enough, you are dancing together, and this is how you meet. He tells you his name is Omar. You exchange numbers. Later in the week, you meet up, talk all night. At some point, you say, “I can’t believe I don’t even know your whole name.” He gets bashful, seems reluctant to tell you. “You’ll laugh.” “I won’t!” I won’t, you think. “My name is Omar Sharif.” You laugh.

Read the rest of this entry →

You see a guy on the dance floor. He likes to dance in this pure kind of way, his eyes closed, ecstatic in the music. He’s not cruising like everyone else. His abandon invites your abandon, you dance too. With your eyes closed. Though you sneak peeks. Soon enough, you are dancing together, and this is how you meet. He tells you his name is Omar. You exchange numbers. Later in the week, you meet up, talk all night. At some point, you say, “I can’t believe I don’t even know your whole name.” He gets bashful, seems reluctant to tell you. “You’ll laugh.” “I won’t!” I won’t, you think. “My name is Omar Sharif.” You laugh.

Read the rest of this entry →