A Moment of Possibility

She cannot think of a single thing to say, so tied up is her tongue, now that they're alone on the porch. And she could kill her friend for leaving her out there with him to fend for herself. To sink. Or to swim.

She sits back in her chair, thinking for a moment of what she should or maybe shouldn't say. She is intrigued by him. By things he's already said out in the other room. His explanations, which to others might seem too long and impractical seem just right to her. She sneaks a peek at him from beneath her lashes, noting the strength of his jaw, the character of his face, the tall leanness of his body and hair she's already imagining running her fingers through.

His cell phone rings and saves her from having to start the conversation while he answers in a language she cannot understand. She could listen to the timbre of his voice for hours, heavily accented and yet fluid in his native tongue. He looks up at her and seems to really look at her, "I'm sorry honey," he says, offering her an apology for having answered his phone. And she finds herself smiling, telling him it's okay while he says a few syllable's more and then neatly ends his call. "Now where were we?" he asks, giving her a smile.

In the space of a few minutes she puts to him her questions, learning about the country from which he came, and how long he'd been here. He tells her that his family was originally from Europe, Bosnia to be exact. And she admits to having the world's worst geography skills, telling him she has no idea where to find it on a map. He asks her if she knows where Italy is. And she laughs, at his description of Italy, "You know the country of the boot with the too high heel," he says.

They continue talking, alone on the porch with only the moonlight for company. And she apologizes for not remembering his name. "Armie," he says, "Like an army of one." She rolls his name off her tongue, liking the sound of it on her lips. At some point, after they'd talk more about his job, and he said she should stop in to see him some time, they went inside. She shot her best friend a look across the room, a thank you but I'd like to kill you all the same sort of face, flushed with a dreamy smile.

All too soon the night came to a close, ending with a mass departure of voices drifting off into the night. And though theirs was an ordinary goodbye at best, she couldn't help but hope that he might entertain the thought of wanting to see her again.