She finds him under wrapper of ordinariness. Mundane sort; only partially formed. Tentative in every action. Yet . . .

He finds her in the la gaudiere sliver of a moment; a shared smile over whiskey neat at the Vent Lounge.

As if invisible hands nudge spines lurchingly towards each’s bar stool; backwards centrifugalical forces they can’t oppose.

Two guardian angels, sharing bourbon on the rocks, shake hands.

© Lorraine 2017

image: jarmoluk,

mlmm wordle 160