Waiting For Something To Happen

The sun had disappeared behind the buildings that hemmed us in and a slight breeze carried the scent of food to me. Roasted meats, the spices of desire and courage, the aromas of honey and garlic and I could swear I tasted salt in the air. All around, the pleasant lilt of conversation levitated us and from that height I caught her eye. I searched those eyes for something beyond this moment, for something I could use to tightrope myself out of here, and I saw the reflected light of the river, deep and dark and so faint I might not have seen it but for the clear transmission of her gaze. I answered a dozen questions, habitually smiling, while I floated a raft into the night, past villages asleep in the current, but for a single sentry who neither waved nor acknowledged me until at last he was swallowed by the trees and I sailed on.