Collateral damage

It seems I lost her in someone else’s dreams. The stale smell of cloves lingered in her mouth. A dry spell and secrets impalpable. I entered under dim lights and hushed voices. They took their place. She swayed about strategically, lipstick stained and mischievous. I wasn’t rattled, yet somewhat aroused as my mind wandered otherwise. She turned and faced the stage as the music played. Some would say I’ve lost.

It is only the beginning.