Tacos

Sitting on the curb, I was eating my basket of tacos from the umbrella flagged street vendor. The perfect melt of grease and cheese soaked the tender flesh, seasoned with the perfect layers of chile mesh.

“Perfect moment!” I thought to myself as I absorbed the oozing mess into my being. Consuming my surround,  I looked left then right, seeing no onlookers into my day. Isolated in the masses of crowds, I watched through invisible eyes into their bustling way.

Triggered by an engine knocking free, I turned forward to meet invisible eyes with someone who was watching me. I felt a rise, first in my heart, it told my stomach it was okay to flip. Pulled in our mixed gravity, an instant meeting of our lips.

Forward to forward we targeted each other with precision, our approach purposed as if with a higher vision. We stopped at center, our edges giving a slight singe as they met. My curves matching his way, we snapped together, the last two pieces of the puzzled played.

The final border of our storyboard journey set in time, we fill in its center by coloring outside the lines.

Inspired by the prompt ‘tacos’ at typetrigger.com

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