There was nothing particularly special about him. Average height, averagely handsome, average smile. But all of his amiable qualities combined to create this shining star in the sky. His deep, melodic voice she could listen to for hours. His perfect hair always slicked back, so if ever it wasn’t, she wanted to fix it herself. His calm, bright manner that made him so approachable yet made her so nervous. His refined style that gave him a sophisticated air – which was changed with a silly grin or a glass of beer. Disregarding the form-fitting pants, he always wore a vintage belt – which she had once seen him whip off and she had subsequently become flustered. If it was hot, he would push up his sleeves to reveal slender, muscular forearms. Whenever he went out he would put on a suit jacket. She grew to hate that suit jacket, because every time he put it on it meant he was leaving. He would disappear for an indiscernable amount of time and leave the world a little darker until he returned.
When things became too dark for her, all she wanted to do was bury her face in his chest for comfort. She wanted his voice in her ear and his fingers in her hair. But wanting only led to wanting more, which was impossible. They were separated by more than age and class – they were different in so many ways. He cared for art, she cared for cars. He supported others, she burdened them. He could wear whatever he wanted, she had to craft her image carefully.
But in her dreams, none of that mattered. In her dreams, his voice caressed her neck, trailing tingles across her skin. In her dreams, they laughed together about all the things she was too nervous to tell him. In her dreams, he dreamt of her.