First Encounters
New experiences, chance meetings, discovering passion
29 stories
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Julian’s Earplugs
The humidity was doing things to my hair that usually require a stylist and a prayer, but Julian was looking at my mouth instead.
Arthur’s Lighter
I didn’t want to be the woman who gets unraveled by a consultant in a linen shirt, yet here I am, typing this.
October 19th, 10:42 PM
I still have the receipt from that cafe car—fourteen dollars for a plastic bottle of Chardonnay that tasted like a battery.
Tarnish
The way your thumb traced the rim of your glass had the same heavy, rhythmic intent as a man cleaning a sidearm.
Sunday, 5:18 AM
The smell of the cedar sauna is still stuck in the back of my throat, thick as woodsmoke and just as blinding.
I Swear I Only Went in for a Pen
The air in that shop was thick as warm honey, and he was standing there looking at me like I was a first edition he couldn't afford.
Brutal Grace
The weight of the mountain air was nothing compared to the way his hand felt against the small of my back, searing through the spandex.
![](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"you're-holding-your-glass-like-a-shield"-65-cover-1782734449998.jpg)
"You're Holding Your Glass Like a Shield"
I remember the way the condensation from her gin glass tracked a slow, clear line through the fine dust on her knuckles.
Studio 4B
He adjusted the softbox like he was clearing a jam on a rifle, steady and focused, and my pulse just jumped the track.
The Half-Empty Highball on the Pedestal
The air conditioning in the Bergamot Station gallery was set to sixty-two degrees, yet the back of my neck was slick with sweat.
—besides, the eucalyptus was making me dizzy anyway
His hands were seasoned—there’s no other word for it—heavy with a confidence that made my skin feel like it was humming.
At Least the Air Was Thin
His hand on my hip was firm, less like a polite gesture and more like he was claiming a specific piece of real estate.