Floating Intellect: Camden

Her seat gave her the perfect vantage point for observing him without being noticed, but she couldn't help hoping that he might turn around and see her or walk past her on his way to refill his drink. Even from far away she knew it was him; she had every insignificant mannerism recorded in her mind. She knew him by the angle of his shoulders; the tilt of his head when he was talking, which differed from the tilt of his head when he was listening; the subtle gesticulation he made with his hands when trying to win someone over to his opinion. When he got up, she would recognize his posture in walking, the length of his stride, the weight of his footfall upon the ground. At that very moment the curve of his back, the position of his forearms on the edge of the table, the placement of his body slightly angled towards the woman with whom he was conversing told her that his conversation was light-hearted and casual. She imagined his facial expressions as he spoke: She imagined his shocking royal blue eyes animated and bright while he nodded his head in response to his breakfast companion's story. Perhaps his lips formed a knowing and mischievous smile.

She thought of that same smile directed at her, those same tempestuously blue eyes stopping her heart, stealing from her mind every intelligent thought and staying her lips. Even in her imagination she could not meet his gaze with the same boldness she could anyone else's. She became a shy child merely thinking about him, the ocean of his eyes away from her strikingly sharp-witted, convincingly sarcastic, and unabashedly blunt self. There was something in his air, the familiar and mature sound of his voice, the almost-twinkle in his eye that so intrigued and fascinated her that held all sensibility and confidence captive. The mere thought of him turned her entire world upon itself and left her intensely, disturbingly vulnerable; as if she could not conceal from him the tunnels of her mind or the caverns of her heart. This feeling that he could render her entire universe of thought and being unhinged, as if he could see and shape her soul, left her groping for some semblance of control; some way to know about him the things he could lay bare about her upon on instant's inquiry. From where did he come? Where was he going? About what did he dream? What were his goals? What dark thoughts did or would he entertain when he thought not even God could hear them?

Somewhere just beneath her throat she ached to know the answers to these questions. Her whole body seemed alight with curiosity, like a violently burning flame that started at her heart and curled its way around her bones, setting the floor on fire beneath her feet and burning brightly out her eyes. The fire escaped her control raging across the room to where he was seated snaking its way up the legs of his wooden chair leaving behind charred and blackened stubs as it roared up the perfect curve of his backbone."He will feel it," she thought with a panic that only fueled the flames. "No! Stop, STOP!" Her breath became quick and shallow, her heart like a hummingbird's wings. She saw and knew that he could feel the flames now upon his neck....

Abruptly he shot from his chair, turned to see her staring, grabbed his bag and walked past her as she abashedly reverted her gaze.