Fish & Chips Part 4

He falls.
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He dropped the bag of two for one lettuce salad mix he had been examining.

Dark skinned, small, too small really, with short black bangs, she just looked up at him and smiled with dark brown eyes and he dropped the lettuce.

He felt a shiver reverb through his body like a small earthquake.

He smiled back, then turned away and blushed.

Fuck.

Outside he clutched his bag of chips, dip, a pack of hot dogs, and three bottles of brown ale.

She was walking and he walked behind her, a block back feeling ugly and wrong for doing so.

The argument went on in his head ...on and on...but it was never resolved. He felt clean and dirty at the very same time.

So he followed.

She turned down the darkness that is 2nd avenue and he could see the lighted bar signs reflect off the top of her hair.

Lust.

This was what this was. Not love...it was lust.

He was a natural lover, but this was lust and he wanted her.

Thoughts of kissing her and entering her and making her moan and cry out. That was what he wanted. It cried out from the center of a soul that was utterly empty.

Yes, he was empty. He was a shell clutching a bag of chips, some dip and three beers.

And he was following a woman of substance. He knew it. He felt like a vampire. He felt ridiculous. He felt like a fool. He kept following. He could not stop.
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God spelled backwards is Dog...