He saw life in her eyes and transcendence in her lips--pleasure that belonged here: in this time, in this place, now. It was immediate and concrete--emphatically physical and unabashedly sensual. It was everything he lacked, everything he desired, everything he couldn't give himself with words.
And with action she made it real.
Her smile sent his stomach to his feet like a boy grabbing a merry-go-round mid-spin, clutching desparately-playfully to the thing that both scares him and gratifies him most. When he looked at her face there was endless sensation--billions of strings tugging his nerve endings awake from their perpetual hibernation, reminding them that this is what it means to feel, that the point-of-it-all is in this moment. At her touch it was over. Words failed. Concepts paled. There was nothing but that percept, and he needed nothing more, wanted nothing less.
Yet he struggled with the pleasure of it all and wondered if it meant betrayal of virtue. So he hesitated and lost her eyes in a fog of stoicism. What he saw then was a blackness, a confusion of what wasn't there with what he desired. He noticed that he wasn't scared--only comfortable--and that scared him. Because it shouldn't be like this with its denial and arbitrary rules, with its psuedo-asectic renunciations and cereal box chivalry. And, luckily, it's not. Because there are words that one must keep in focus, words that are vital to survival, to happiness, to the life in her eyes.
"...for living on Earth."
And as her smile teased the Richter scale and her eyes made jealous the Sun, he put those words on repeat in his subconscious playlist, listening intently while visioning intensely. He heard them again and more agains than bare repeating until he memorized their cadence. They made the soundtrack of the night as he walked her out the door and to tomorrow, toward a fast-approaching future of having none of it. His nerve endings pleaded for stimulant as eyelids sank and mind drifted listlessly toward slumber. It's where he went, too--alone: for now, for the immediate future. But for the first time in a long time, he didn't like it.