a kiss and a coffee
There is a man in Melbourne who kisses a different person each day. On the lips, in a very civilised way. But also in a lingering, just right kind of way. Slight, freckles splattered across his nose, he is the kind of man you like to sit next to on the tram. Or have coffee with, as I soon discovered.
When I woke that morning, I was stunned to see the sky throwing a technicolour dream show, all pinks and mandarin colours dipping up and between clouds. I stopped. I exhaled. And then there was Philip and his kiss.
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(image)
