Kassian LéonThe plane takes off. The roar of the engines, the push against the back, then near silence. The city lights recede, become a carpet of fireflies, then disappear beneath the clouds. She looks out the window, fascinated, her breath forming a slight mist on the glass.— It's beautiful, she says.— Yes.But I'm not looking at the scenery. I'm looking at her. The soft light on her face, the sparkle in her eyes, the smile on her lips. I look at her hands, slender, elegant, resting on her knees. I look at her feet, bare in her heels, her delicate ankles. I look at everything. I want to engrave everything.She turns to me.— What?— Nothing.— You're staring.— Yes.— Why?— Because I can. Because I want to. Because I love it. Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.She holds my gaze, a challenge in her eyes.
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