That Square

''I'm warning you'', she tells him over the phone.

''We're gonna be holding hands tomorrow. 
And kissing in public,
'tis the right city for public displays of affection''
''Downtown?'' he asks.
She can sense a smile in his voice.
''Yes. You'd better get used to the idea''.

Then the next day he's waiting for her 
at that picturesque historical square
bearing the name of an ancient philosopher
on the seafront, under those beautiful arches.
Early morning, 
the city awakes
to a cloudy, gloomy sky.

She is late,
or maybe she isn't,
she's just so eager to see him.
Missed him. 
It's been almost two weeks.
She's in the upper part of the street
leading to the square,
she's just gotten off the bus.
God, how she missed him.
Eagerness and happy anrticipation
swelling in her chest, 
she starts running towards the seafront
towards him, waiting for her.

Cheeks flashed
-it's still cold-
she's running  
among empty cafes and tavernas
lining up the side of the square.

There he is, smiling 
and she can sense his smile
even before she sees it
and she almost throws herself at him
kissing him
and now he is laughing:
''Judging by the way you ran,
that passer by thought you were about to attack me,
you should see the look on his face''
''Told you to get used to public displays of affection'',
she retorts, face burried in his collar,
getting quick whiffs of his beloved smell.

She can sense his joy too.

What a glorious feeling,
to be your lover's pride and joy....