I was going to buy toothpaste and as I walked I debated whether or not to also buy a toothbrush. Dental hygiene is something I take very seriously, though it puzzles me why humans have to care for their teeth yet lion’s don’t. And to tell you the truth lions use their teeth more often than men do, I mean, they literally use them to kill for their food, yet you’ll never see a lion brushing their teeth.

  I heard somewhere that animals have some form of bacteria within their mouth that prevents tooth decay and it’s moments like these that I wish I was a mad scientist. Surely, nobody has thought about taking the bacteria in an animal’s mouth and putting it in their own? Come on, it’s not that disgusting. People French kiss dogs you know.

  I went to the shop and was looking at brands of toothpaste, there was either Colgate or Whitedent. I didn’t like the ‘dent’ in whitedent. You shouldn’t bring the word ‘dent’ anywhere near teeth so I opted for Colgate instead which practically has no meaning, as I was purchasing the toothpaste a woman came and bought a lollypop.

  She was young, fresh into college most likely. There was this motion to her, as if her youth was unending and it was a pleasure to bear witness to it. She looked at me once and then looked away, pointedly making sure that I was aware of how insignificant I was in her eyes. We both paid for our goods and ended up walking in the same direction, her shoes were placed gently on the tarmac with each step while mine scraped the surface.

  “So are you from around here?” I asked.

  “No, I’m just visiting.” She said in a matter of fact tone. I should have asked her where she was visiting but I just saw how brittle that conversation would be. One worded replies were the bane of flirtation but I knew a way to circumnavigate this.

  “I saw you once.” I said.

  “Really?” She wondered.

  “Yeah, late June last year. The girl I saw had the same dimples you have, unique dimples. With others it looks like a facial deficiency but with you it is a depression pricked by the very finger of God himself.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  “It probably wasn’t me.”

  “It probably wasn’t but the familiarity you bring, this feeling I have now as I speak to you is the same feeling I had when I saw that woman who might have been you.” I said.

  “What was she wearing? What was her hair style?” She questioned.

  “Neither of that matters. It’s the feeling you see, have you ever seen someone and thought of yourself in bed with them, sharing the same air and looking into each other’s eyes? It’s a place I’ve found myself in numerous time yet my heart tells me of what a liar I am for neither does it beat with excitement or anticipation or need. It just beats regularly, as if being close to a woman is no different from being close to a lawn mower.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m saying, the way I feel now compared to how I feel with other women is different, regardless of proximity.” I opined.

  She chuckled, it should have sounded beautiful to my ears but instead I only felt the slight tremble of my hand as the feeling of the chase set in. She was a gazelle, graceful and alive and I was a lion looking to eat and hump her corpse.

  “You must say that to other women too.” She toyed with a strand of hair.

  “I wish that were true but words hold value to me. It can light someone’s day, someone can say something that’d make you remember them forever because of that one thing they said. I rarely speak a lie and I rarely repeat a tale. All I tell you is original.”

  “By the way have you watched Originals?” She asked.

  “Yes, the vampires and the wolves and the witches. I know it yet I feel my blood pump with need for your bite, mere proximity to you makes me want to howl at the moon and at dawn I want to stand guard over you before you wake, as one would if bewitched.” I said.

  “You’re very good with words.” She said. “You remind me of Klaus.”

  “I’m good at everything that stems from the senses. My tongue knows the words to say, my eyes never stray from your own, my nose takes in your scent, it clouds my mind and pushes my judgment with each whiff. And my touch, well, I can trace a line from your jaw down your neck to your collar and it’ll be one touch feeling like one million.” I smiled at her and her face broke into a smile.

  “Are you going to take my number?” She asked.

  “But sweet heart, I don’t even know your name.” I said and abruptly walked away. That’s the thing about the game of flirtation. You must catch your opponent off guard, I’d planted a seed in her mind. She’d wonder why I didn’t take her number, wonder why I never asked her name and the wondering will be quite the enigma until something else develops and the next time I bumped into her, well, whatever developed would be to my aid.

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