The Space Between

She can feel the heat from his body seep through their clothing and into her skin. Where his fingers graze her arms spread goose bumps, almost as chilling as the excitement running through her veins. She is certain that she has never felt so alive in her life.

She runs her hands from low on his waist upwards and then across to his arms. She traces the tanned skin of his arms with gentle fingers, committing what she can to memory. Eventually, her hands reach his and she entwines their fingers.

Staring into his eyes, she wishes things were different; that the emotions she is experience could last forever rather than being pushed aside because of their differences. She wishes that they were not separated fiercely by their beliefs and could both accept each other for who they were.

She knows that will never happen.

She leans up and presses a kiss to his lips – the last kiss she intends to share with him. She pulls back slowly and lets her gaze linger on him for a moment longer. She turns and walks away.

Behind her she hears him mutter quietly, to her or himself she can't be sure, "the space between us grows," and her heart physically aches. No truer words were spoken.