Modern Romance Short Story
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
her fingers went to my armas. We left the restaurant pulling herself closer to me, and I felt a spark charge the cold air between us. As we walked back to the car, my pulse quickening. I got her door and then went around to get in myself. When I closed the door behind myself and turned to her, I found her gaze upon me, her eyes looking excited now in the low light as she looked at me, anxiously wondering what was next. I looked back to her, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, wondering if it was a false sense of intimacy stoked by the conversation we've had over dinner. Or if this girl really warmed my heart. Unable to tell the difference in the dark cold of another night alone in the place I now called home, I gave in to my base er instincts and leaned in closer until her lips met mine, lightning cracking in my mind. Ah, warm sensation, flooding my extremities despite the brisk air in the now cold car that had sat for hours while we Converse Stover dinner. When we finally came up for air, I asked her if she'd like me to take her home. And with her eyes still sparkling, she shook her head gently. No, I started the car aware of every little sound, vibration and smell it made. Now my sense is heightened by the perfect stranger holding my hand tightly as we pulled away and drove. When we reached my apartment complex, everything seemed silent despite the hundreds of people living under one roof, clearly a place more dead in life than most. We made our way to the door quickly, still aware of how cold it was outside, and she continued to cling to my arm as we climbed the stairs and eventually reached my door. I fumbled for my keys, and once I found the right one, I opened the door, the lock making a metallic clicking sound as it accepted the key. We went inside the dark apartment, and I turned on a light. The dated bulbs yellow glow did little more, though, than produced shadows in the dark room. She walked around the tiny apartment, looking at the posters on my walls, my papers on my desk and the mess around my bed seemingly fascinated by my mundane life. Once she'd finished her exploration. She sat down on my couch and looked to me as if calling me over. I went to the refrigerator and opened it. The harsh light inside, providing more light in the room than the bulb above, pulled a bottle of chilled white wine from the lowest shelf and held it up so she could see it. She nodded her head in approval, and I turned to the cupboard to pull out the only two glasses I owned. I popped the cork and poured us each a glass. I carried them over to the couch and sat next to her, careful not to spill. She took hers and kissed me as she did, lingering for a moment before she pulled away and took a sip of the sweet white wine. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the couch, letting everything go, and I admired how comfortable she was in a place she'd never been, how at home, she seemed with someone she'd known for only a few mere hours, and I found it comforting. In a way. It felt like I belonged almost sitting next to her. In that moment,