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It was the last evening of my time in Norway. I had decided to make it easy on myself and rent a flat instead of living out of a hotel for two weeks. I had made it three quarters of the way through my relatively uneventful third deployment to the middle east and was allotted 14 days of leave to get a break from combat. At that point in my holiday from Hell, I was already past the point of appreciating a hot shower and on my way to silently complaining about a poor choice of a glass wine for dinner. The last time I left combat for anywhere in Europe I was being transported by military aircraft to the Army Medical Center in Landstuhl, Germany. I was unconscious and only able to breathe thanks to a nice young private who wasn’t old enough to have a celebratory beer with me afterward, but was old enough to squeeze an inflatable pouch (and, coincidentally, my makeshift lung) every few seconds to keep me alive. The injuries I sustained were severe enough to warrant spending many thousands of dollars to immediately evacuate me out of country, but had not endangered any of my limbs or my eyesight. The last thing I remember before the explosion is taking off my helmet to get a brief respite from the smothering heat and slug back some water. The next thing I can recall is waking up to the sounds of two German health professionals discussing the sutures that I later found out were more or less the only thing holding my guts in my abdomen. To put it plainly, I had been blown the fuck up. I sat at the bar, silently discussing this sobering realization with a cold pint of beer. I checked my watch. She was fifteen minutes late. It made sense to me, as I had never seen the girl arrive on time to anything. I lifted the glass and situated it between myself and one of the ceiling lights, attempting to see how transparent the dark brew was. I didn’t have time to come to a conclusion, as the experiment was interrupted by her entrance into the pub. She was a unique beauty, especially in this land. Among a sea of fair-haired women she might as well have been the only one to shake the snow out of her dark chestnut locks. I remember the first day of my trip when I saw her and she had this easy smile on her lips and a subtle tilt of the head that let me know she was exploring my features as well. Normally I would’ve been self-conscious and concerned with her opinions of me, but for some reason I was more enamored with her proud cheekbones and inviting gaze. Like a liquid through a funnel I was pulled in until I found myself lost in her hazelnut eyes, dark and warm with a spark of mischief, the kind that let you know she either had a plan for you or was lisa viv thomas working her way through one. She was a thunderstorm packed into a matchbox. I knew right then that my life would never be the same. She found me quickly in the small establishment, her eyes shimmering and her lips parting to reveal a smile that made me feel like I was home again. She moved around a couple two-top tables and slid gracefully out of her jacket while I stood, crashing into me with a hug that I would have expected from my kid sister. I felt the warmth I had accrued over the last hour instantly sapped from me as she melted viv tomas into my much larger form. It was a comfort I was happy to share. "Hey you!" she beamed, still squeezing me tightly as she peered up at me from about chest height. "Hey…how was work?" I responded. "I need a drink…" she said with a roll of her eyes and politely took the mug from my hand, gulping down a long drink of the ale. Things like this made her so much more endearing to me. "Keep that one, I’ll get another. " I slipped out of her grasp and went to fetch another draught as she made herself comfortable at my table. We sat there in the pub and had several beers, giving me the opportunity to meet her roommate and a handful of her close friends, some for the first time, others for the second. We all laughed and joked, but I stayed quiet for the most part. In some ways I was there for myself, but at that moment I was there for her. I took great pleasure in watching her interact with all of them, her exaggerated reactions to their jokes, her bubbly laugh and genuine smile. She was real, both in the sense that she was no longer just a streaming video on my computer screen and that her soul was genuine. She was very, very real. At one point she excused herself to go to the restroom with a friend, pausing as she passed me to place a hand on each of my arms and lean over my shoulder, whispering quietly in such a way that I found myself leaning closer to her just to be nearer to the source. "Someone’s awfully quiet tonight…" she grinned, her eyes looking into mine with a characteristic confidence. I had been in the middle of a taking drink, but paused with my viv thomas the edge of the glass on my lips when she spoke. This posture now hid the smile that crept across my lips in response. "Just enjoying the conversation." I downed a mouthful of beer quickly, turning my head to face her more directly. "I like it here." "Really? Because I was thinking maybe we should get out of here and go for a walk." Before I could make any effort to prevent it my brows raised and the corner of my mouth slid up in a smirk. She pressed her lips firmly together and mimicked my gesture, tilting her head to the side as if beckoning for my answer. "Think about it," she said and slipped away to the restroom. I chuckled and turned back to the table after she had left, raising the glass to my lips one more time. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Of course, I was probably reading too much into it at the time, but it was still exciting to mentally thumb through the possibilities. jakobkarver [3 comments]