Ten.
The bar immediately screamed the digit in unison.
Nine.
I looked the television, unsure of my ability to count down from ten in this state of intoxication.
Eight.
The friends who followed me into the establishment had begun to pair off in order to prepar
(more)e for the imminent kiss.
Seven.
A phantom hand forces a glass of champagne in my hand.
Six.
"Are we doing this?" she asked.
Five.
My response was not nearly as clever as I would have hoped.
Four.
My knees grew weak.
Three.
She pulled me closer, the smell of lingering cigarette smoke and perfume filled me lungs.
Two.
I say the word nearly a half second early.
One.
I don't even say the word, I finish the champagne in one gulp.
The bar erupts in excitement. I close my eyes and revel in the complete darkness.
(less)
