Café Mayan

~The Dance~

euphony playlist, songs from the patio of the Café Mayan language :

~ At shoemaker's last - Etta James

~Come Away With Me - Norah Jones

~You're Only Lonely - JD southerly

~The Way You Look Tonight - Michael Bublé

~I'm Gon na roll in the hay You Like I'm Gon na Lose You - Meghan Trainor

~Smoke Gets In Your oculus - The Platters

~Put Your Head On My berm - Saul of Tarsus Anka

~If You Don't Know Me By Now - Simply Red

~Wicked Game - Chris Isaak

He stood in the doorway from the street outdoor. There were table on the base on balls outside, of course, it was a café after all. And, while there were a few people here and there, couples mostly, the one person he was looking for was not among them. So, indoors he went. Stepping inside he had to pause to let his eyes adjust to the lower lighting, even though the sun was heading toward the apparent horizon outside as it would soon be setting.

This was not his first trip-up here, to the Café Maya. It would look he had been coming here for quite some metre, more often over the past year or so however. No, The Café Maya was quite familiar to him. You see, he, Floyd had created this Café. well, he and others like him who frequented this place. It was a special place. It only existed here in the ether of this region of fantasy and trick. Born of imagination, curiosity, desire and hungriness, the Café Maya was where dreams took physique and became real, even if only for legal brief periods of prison term.

Illusion, and fantasy, dreams in other words. Waking dreams, perhaps, but fueled by desires and longings of the heart and imagination. In this place, the real number creation took a footstep back and this illusion became very genuine indeed. It was a spot where like-minded people could meet and coexist in person as it were, for a time. Like all dreams, however, the clock time here in the Café Maya always cut short when the real public again reclaimed the mind and attention of those visiting here. But it was here that they all would return to time and sentence again, to rejoin in that illusion that filled a void that many didn't fully realize until they found this place.

Floyd, took off his jacket and held it up in straw man of himself to look at it. A faint, nicely styled dinner crown, a little sporty perhaps, but still stately enough for almost squeamish eatery dress prerequisite. He shook his heading in wry amusement as he wondered when he had imagined himself wearing a crown in the first place as he was not one to decorate up for much of anything. He folded it over one arm and looked about for a coat check. There, in an bay by the door was a young daughter smiling at him as she gave him a claim just the ticket and took his jacket to pay heed up until he was ready to leave.

As he slipped the just the ticket into his pocket, he noticed, again with amusement, that he was not wearing his usually preferred jean, but rather a skillful span of slacks. The silk button down shirt was whippersnapper and prosperous as were the stylish bum on his feet. Now he knew that person else had had a hand in his appearance. The magic of Café Mayan language it would seem. While each person has their own imagination to draw from for themselves, it also affected others here as well. Essentially, we helped each early create the illusion ... or world ... that we shared here.

Once more Floyd looked around the inside of the café. If he was dressed this way, she must be here somewhere. As his oculus had adjusted to the low-spirited visible radiation, he began to pick out faces here and there. Again, there were dyad and even threesome and fours at some table engaged in conversations, and other things. As to be expected, some were engaged in rather passionate exchanges of whisper intimacy or kissing.

The lightsome piece of cake from the ocean carried through the undetermined doorway from the patio, causing the linen on the mesa to fleet at their edges. On the breeze was, of trend, the salty air from the sea, along with the scent of the peak beds on the patio. rose, Magnolias, Hibiscus, Jasmine ... and ... Lilies. It was the latter that led Floyd to channelise out onto the terrace, following the smell in hopes of finding ... her.

Floyd stepped through the doorway to the patio, momentarily blinded by the much brighter lighting than the interior of the Café. He paused just through the threshold to let his eyes adjust. There was a Song playing over the sound system, a intimate melodic phrase, one that he felt was hauntingly comrade but that he couldn't identify ripe away. It was an implemental adaptation and it was winding down, the endure few bars playing out as he looked around the terrace. Then he spotted her.

She was standing at the edge of the patio facing the beach. A few chain of her cover girl darkness hair lifting on the breeze blowing in from the ocean. In her hands she held a single lily near her nose as if she had just been smelling it. The flaccid petals brushing her cheek as she gazed out at the surf. She must have sensed that she was being observed however. As the following Song dynasty began to play over the sound system,"At hold up"by Eta Saint James the Apostle, Shobha turned and saw Floyd.

Her placid lovely font broke into a timid grinning when she realized who it was. To Floyd it was if the sun had come out from behind the swarm. The Sung dynasty's lyrics were oh so affecting, and fitting he thought. Somehow, he managed to take the air across the patio instead of running. Never once taking his optic off of her as he approached.

Shobha had arrived early today. She thanked whatever luck or destiny that had allowed it because it gave her a little spear carrier time to sort through her thoughts. At foremost, she had sat at a table inside, but face or perhaps skittish energy had gotten the better of her, so she came out here on the patio. Maybe it was the commix look of the flowers and the salty air from the ocean walkover that drew her. The music that was playing was both solace and ... made her think.

She had been doing a lot of thinking lately. She so very dearly missed her late married man. She knew in her heart of warmness that she would never feel another like him. But she still longed for meaningful company and yes, some fervor as well. She was still a untried woman at mettle. She needed to be appreciated, to be wanted and maybe even loved. She had felt all of that with her new friend. Somehow, he understood how she felt and what she wanted. He too seemed to be looking for something, like she was. She knew that Floyd was hopelessly in dearest with his wife and didn't need a fill-in any more than Shobha herself needed a fill-in for her recent husband.

What they both needed was a protagonist. Someone to part those feeling of yearning and desire with here in this suspended reality that they have created together. Shobha knew that she had a vivid imagination, and it seemed as if Floyd had an amazing resourcefulness as well. This very café was his estimation, but he had asked for her help in making it to a greater extent real. A place they could meet and be together if for short periods of time.

Looking around, Shobha marveled at the contingent that truly brought this place to life. Even the feel of grains of sand on top of the pavers on the patio that she could experience grinding and scrunching under foot when she moved about. The sound of the breaker and moving ridge washing onto the sand of the beach that she was looking out at a mo ago. The low mumble of voices in conversation about the patio and inside the café. The phone of ice in glasses and silverware and plates from people eating. And, the medicine.

She thought it was interesting how the lyrics of the songs often reflected her own intellection and feelings. Perhaps they were Floyd's thoughts and tone, since she was not the one to think of the music. A new song had begun to play on the music system. An old classic By Eta James II,"At Last ”, when Shobha could finger eyes upon her. Somehow, she knew it was Floyd, he had arrived, like the Sung ... At hold out. She turned to seek him out.

There, just outside the door to the inside of the café, he stood looking at her from across the patio. His almost timid grin warmed her nitty-gritty and gave her a secret lilliputian quiver. The affectionateness in his eyes as he drank in her appearance made her feel butterfly in her stomach. He looked just as she had imagined he would. Dressed in a buttoned-down long-sleeved silk shirt, squeamish slack water and stylish yet easy brake shoe. Of course of action, he looked to be dressed this way, it was her imagination at manoeuvre now. Her creative contribution to their haven on the net, her imagination had dressed him this way. But it did not make her look excited to see him, that was something else.

Floyd came to a stop in strawman of Shobha. So very near, almost toe to toe, he looked down slightly into her bright overturned side, her aflutter almost shy smile letting him know that she was happy to see him. They both stood motionless as Etta belted out her birdcall over the speaker around the patio. Gazing into one another's eyes again. Both finding mutual turmoil and anticipation in the other's eyes.

"have you been waiting long ?"Floyd asked almost apologetically.

"No, not long. I got here a niggling early to see all this beautiful creation. It is so ... so real."Shobha almost gushed, her hands held out as if showing Floyd what she was talking about.

"It wasn't all my doing."He admitted."I think a neat deal of it is from your imagery. The flowers for illustration. I had imagined only something simple like Jasmine. But You like rose wine and Lilies."Floyd said motioning to the lone lily that Shobha still held lightly in her hand.

"I wasn't even aware that I had imagined it."Shobha said with a grin and glanced at the lily in her hand thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's beautiful ... like you."Floyd said with that warm grin again as he reached out and touched her hand holding the flower, and leaned in to adopt a delicate sniff of its fragrance.

Shobha watched as Floyd's eyes closed for a consequence as he sniffed the flower, his smile never faltering. Instead, if anything, his grinning grew boastful and he sighed when he exhaled before straightening back up and opening his center to look at her once more. Just then a new song began to play ... Shobha noticed that other yoke were now standing and stepping out onto the terrace, pairing up to dance. She looked back to Floyd.

The perfume of the lily was almost heavenly, but it still paled in comparing to the woman holding that flower. Was it his imagination, or hers, that supplied the scent of her aroma. It was faint, floral, and enticing. He wanted to smell more of it. I wanted to be penny-pinching to this beautiful woman. Those thoughts flashed through is mind even as a new song began to play over the music organization. He recognized the melodic line, and the Isaac Merrit Singer. This was perfect, and better still, it was a tremendous Sung dynasty to which to dance.

Floyd extended his right hand politely and looked Shobha in her lovely brown eyes and asked her."Would you like to dance ?"The opening nisus of"Come Away With Me"by Norah John Luther Jones soothing his own brass.

Shobha was a lilliputian hesitant, again. It had been so long since anyone had asked her to dance. Did she still remember how ? Would she obstruct herself if she tried ? So many questions, it caused her to hesitate. She chewed her bottom lip for just a mo before she threw cautiousness to the wind and nodded her fountainhead and extended her own hand to Floyd in acceptance.

Floyd and Shobha stepped penny-pinching to one another. Floyd taking her right hand in his left. Shobha rested her left-hand helping hand on Floyd's in good order shoulder as his right-hand hand rested lightly on her left-hand hip. They began to persuade and their feet slid lightly across the pavers underfoot, in time to the music. As the song went on, their bodies pressed closer and skinny to one another. Shobha could feel the resolve of Floyd's chest through his silk shirt. The fondness was electric, it caused her to shiver slightly with delight. Her own physical structure high temperature rising along with her excitement. She suddenly became self-consciously aware that her own rousing was causing her nipples to harden beneath her dress as they were pressed into Floyd's chest as they danced closely.

Both seemed to relax into the movement of the dance, and into each other as they held one another finish. It was a impression of warmth and conversancy that both had missed for their own rationality for too yearn. Shobha drew back just a bit to seem up into Floyd's middle only to find him gazing openly back into her own. The soft smile on his font told her that he was enjoying his time with her as a good deal as she was being with him in this wonderful place.

The birdsong wound down to a closing and the professional dancer on the patio paused, some exiting to their tables, others lingered for the adjacent birdsong. Floyd and Shobha had stopped dancing of course, with no music, but they stayed holding one another stopping point, though they did separate just a bit in reserve as they eyed one another with almost sheepish grin. They didn't have sentence to set out any conversation however, as the audio system was soon alive with yet another Song to trip the light fantastic toe to.

The next Song * * * * * * * * * * * ion by the resident physician D.J. was a little brisk than the terminal, but still tranquillize decent to be considered dear for slow dancing."You're Only Lonely"by J.D. south wind opened with the strumming of guitars in a rhythm and tempo that just begged one's feet to move. And if one were holding someone special close, it was all the ameliorate. The grinning on Shobha's expression was effulgent. It appeared to Floyd that she too agreed with that notion.

"Did you pick out this song, and the others ?"Shobha asked quietly, with an almost timid voice.

"I did."Floyd admitted, then asked."Do you not like it ?"

"Oh, it's terrific and a nice call to trip the light fantastic toe to. But it's almost as if you are trying to say something through the different birdcall you've chosen."She said, as if leading Floyd to expand more.

"Perhaps ... They do tell a narrative, or paint a picture, don't they ?"He asked with a smile.

"It sounds as if they are describing me, or you possibly."Shobha said thoughtfully

"Or maybe the call writers were merely describing their own feelings and cerebration that are standardised to our own ?"Floyd said questioningly.

"well, whichever it may be, they fit the mood very well, do they not ?"Shobha stated and looked up into Floyd's eyes again with a warmly smile and chewed the corner of her bottom lip.

Floyd groaned silently as this was a feeling that many women in his past times had given him and it always meant that the Lady giving it was both excited and maybe a short queasy. Anxious, but wanting to go further, he corrected himself. Shobha seemed to bid herself even closer to him as they continued to trip the light fantastic and sway to the music. Their foot gliding effortlessly in sync across the patio, the George Sand grinding beneath their infantry atop the pavers.

As the Song dynasty wound down to a close, more social dancer left the terrace. The sun had lowered on the horizon, and as the sky grew darker, someone turned on some electrical fairy igniter that were strung over the patio giving the dancers some soft ignition with which to see one another. Floyd noted that the visible light reflected in Shobha's middle as she gazed up into his own. It was wizard.

Shobha and Floyd paused their terpsichore, standing still holding one another close. Perhaps neither wanting the eve to end so soon. Floyd was about to evoke that they have a place and order a drinking, but a new song began to play. He could feel Shobha's body set about to sway in sentence with the music so he didn't even bother asking her if she wanted to bear on dancing. She clearly did, as did he. So, they danced to Michael Buble's interpreting of"The Way You Look Tonight."

Again, for a ho-hum saltation strain, this one was a footling faster tempo than well-nigh, but it was still dance-able and it too seemed to describe their emotions and smell in the lyric poem of the song. There was a tactile sensation of peacefulness as the two smoothly moved about the patio in fourth dimension to the music. Their bodies melding together as the swayed and held each other close.

There seemed to be a growing connecter between them, emotionally. Their hearts were opening up to the theory that in one another they had found some small measure of understanding and recognition of desire. This illusion, this suspended realness was growing on them, becoming more and more real with each passing moment. This time as the call wound down to its closing, they never stopped dancing. They continued to take hold one another closely as if savoring the human touch sensation and togetherness.

The next song up began to wreak. The tempo was decidedly boring and nearly matched their trice. As the singer began to peach, the lyrics again took on a haunting timbre as Shobha and Floyd both felt as if their cerebration were being sang aloud by Meghan Trainor singing"I'm Gon na screw You Like I'm Gon na Lose You."

Shobha shifted her right script, unclasping it from Floyd's left hand and brought both of her bridge player to the vertebral column of Floyd's neck. Floyd let is now unloosen hand settle on Shobha's correct hip. Now both helping hand were on her hips at her waistline. This was oh so dangerously insinuate. This close, their bodies ground against one another. Shobha's breasts and belly pressing against Floyd's chest and torso. He had been witting for some time of the growing gibbousness in his slacks. He was certain that Shobha could feel it as well, but she had not commented on it as of yet. Was she embarrassed ? Was she excited ? Maybe a little of both ?

"Am I ? Shobha asked one-half way through the song.

"Are you what ?"Floyd queried in answer, not understanding her question.

"going away to drop off you. Like the song says."She elaborated.

Floyd remained tranquilize for a few steps as he thought about it and they continued dancing. He then brought his right bridge player up to Shobha's delicate Kuki-Chin and with his fingers, gently raised her face to look at him in the eyes again.

"I only have partial say in that ... whether you and I lose one another. This has never been one sided, has it ? Everything we've talked about and have shared has been for and by both of us. So, no. I think you won't lose me without your conclusion to end this experiment of ours. Either of us may modify our minds at some compass point. Perhaps the song is telling us to cherish the consequence. To love one another like we are afraid that we will drop off one another."Floyd stated, never once faltering in his step as they danced on.

Once more the song they were dancing to ended and there was another pause before the next birdcall began to play. Instead of separating, even pulling apart to look into one another's eyes, Shobha pulled herself even tighter to Floyd's chest of drawers. Her arms around his neck and shoulder squeezed him tightly. Floyd feeling this, delighted in the sensation of someone wanting him so very a lot physically, let his hands slip from her hips and wrap around to hold the minuscule of her back and draw Shobha ever slopped to himself as well. Shobha sighed contentedly, a silent thank you for the affection that she felt being returned by this man in her weaponry.

An old classic, romanticist song began to represent, a unforesightful tune, but one that touched spunk that both were baring to the other. The haunting melody for"Smoke Gets In Your oculus"by the Platters came from the speakers around the terpsichore floor on the patio. They were soon joined by early duo who were holding each early as closely as Floyd and Shobha. Floyd felt Shobha sigh again, her warm breathing space escaping her brim so close to his neck opening, it gave him goosebumps and he shivered slightly at the intimate sensation.

It was a shortstop birdcall but it was soon followed by yet another old favorite for lovers and slack dancing. Reaching way back, the D.J. played"Put Your Head On My Shoulder"by Paul Anka. The old Doo Wop romance song had them swaying and feeling dreamy in metre with the beat. Like the Sung dynasty suggested, Shobha lay her head on Floyd's shoulder as they continued to sway and move with the beat. Floyd leaned his own head over to rest against Shobha's, his poke once again filling with the scent of her hair and whatever aromatise she had put on. It was magical in and of itself. He was truly in the instant, swept away with her warmheartedness and beauty.

The sun had edged closer to the horizon as they had been dancing. It was a spectacular and coloured tidy sum as the sun began to dip into the sea. The sky was alight as if it were on firing, the colouration ranging from shiny golden yellows to reds that resembled embers of a dying fire. There was a feeling of time slipping away, once more. The curtly songs only reinforced that feeling of fleeting opportunity. The next song up on the D.J.'s playlist also seemed to echo those thoughts. A slower toon, almost somber in tone and beat."If You Don't Know Me By Now"by Simply Red.

It was lovely music to trip the light fantastic toe to, and dancing with each other, holding one another closing. Feeling the upheaval and sexual latent hostility between them only made the Song dynasty and the dance all the more intimate indeed. Their faces were cheek to cheek as they swayed to the medicine. Turning only slightly brought them face to grimace and their sass brushed lightly together in a soft breathless buss. The lenify tinge of their mouth sent signals of wanton desire through both of their physical structure and their eye half closed as if barely awake. But awake they were.

When the song ended, they finally stopped dancing and simply stood in place, lip touching mouth as the kiss grew in saturation and fervor. They pulled apart just far enough to commute the face that their olfactory organ were on before reengaging and parting for their lingua to meet and begin to trip the light fantastic. Floyd felt Shobha's fingers running through the hair on the backbone of his straits. His own deal had drifted up her sides to just under her arms as he gently squeezed her as if trying to draw the candy kiss even closer to him.

He could feel her chest revolt and falling with each excited breathing place, and even her heart lacing within. Floyd was sure as shooting that Shobha, too, could palpate his own heart beating in his chest as she was so finis to him as to nearly be a second hide ... her breasts pressed tightly to his own chest. As commove as it was, both knew that time was myopic and their visit would soon come to an end ... for this eventide. The keening of sea gulls drew both of their attention towards the beach for a minute. Both lost in their own intellection for a few seconds. When the next song began to play on the strait system,"Wicked plot"by Chris Isaak, Floyd looked into Shobha's eyes and spoke.

"I know this strain. Did you have this song in mind ? Or did my subconscious supply it ?"

The puzzled grammatical construction in Shobha's eyes told him her answer without her even speaking. His warmness ached with a sudden pain of melancholy. This song was oh so poignant and de * * * * * * * * * * * ive for their shared position. Meeting this way and ... feeling for one another as they did. He smiled, however, and took Shobha's script in his and lead her to the exit from the patio out onto the sand of the beach. Pausing for a moment to sound off off his shoes, and Shobha followed his leash, and took off her own brake shoe. Letting their bare toes and feet be warmed by the sand.

paw in script they strolled through the gumption to the breakers and then turned to walk along the beach at the water's edge, getting their understructure wet from prison term to metre. Each carried their shoes in one bridge player, but were joined at the hip, hired man in mitt. Shobha leaned into Floyd and he relished the minginess of her organic structure against his own. The song played on in the distance behind them on the patio of Café Maya. The sound of the breakers and the waves gently rolling in to the beach accompanying the music.

At one point they both sensed the motive to stop and turned to look one another fully. words weren't necessary, the look in each other's middle spoke volumes that wrangle would only confuse. They leaned in and kissed again, momentarily perhaps yielding to their growing mania and forgetting the words of the song that was winding down ... about not wanting to pass in love.

Would that be such a bad matter. To fall in love with somebody who felt the Lapp desires and longing as they did ? Couldn't one love more than than just one early person. Shobha with her recently married man, and Floyd with his wife. They both knew that the other was committed and couldn't'be swayed from that love ... but to be able to love another ? Perhaps not to the same arcdegree, but just as really ... as real as their illusion and suspended reality here anyway.

mouth embraced and caressing, tongues dancing and tasting one another. Their shoes hit the Amandine Aurore Lucie Dupin as their hands freed themselves to explore this other someone's body that was so charge and new and for the here and now anyway, so very actual. Floyd's hired hand went to Shobha's waist and held her for a moment, then ventured around her side of meat to come to rest on the gamy reaches of Shobha's backside. Her feminine frame cried out to be worshiped and touched, at least in Floyd's mind.

Shobha's custody ventured up Floyd's body her men running over his abdominal cavity and bland along his thorax between them. One handwriting pausing near his shoulder and the former continuing up to cup the slope of his grimace, her ribbon on his buttock as they continued to buss passionately. Who began to gasp and moan softly first could induce been debated, had anyone else been around to get a line it. But for this moment, they were alone. It was if the rest of the world had vanished. Their reality condensed to just a few square time at the edge of the sea, in the wet sand and surf on this envisage beach.

Floyd's handwriting slide lower still, softly but insistently gripping her cheeks, one in each hand, lifting Shobha slightly, pulling her closer still into his body. Shobha's hired man left his cheek and moved once more than to the back of Floyd's head, as if the anchor herself to him. Her early paw grew bold and ventured back down his chest of drawers to his waistline before pausing. Perhaps she was having second thoughts or momentaneous doubts, before it began to make a motion again. Downward slowly, along the social movement of Floyd's slacks her hand, palm tree prostrate against the material of his pants, felt the bulge that lay inside under the textile. She inhaled sharply at her own boldness perhaps.

Shobha was not the only one to inhale sharply, almost gasped in fact. Floyd felt Shobha's deal rubbing lightly on the front of his pants and his rear manhood within. It didn't feel as if she were trying to initiate something more ... physical ... but that she was letting her peculiarity free to explore the possibility. Just as he himself had thoughts of with is own men gripping and squeezing her nates. Floyd couldn't, however, keep his consistency from reacting to her touch even as doubtful as it might have got been. His pelvis rolled slightly and pressed into her hand that was between them.

Floyd's reaction caused Shobha to gasp again softly as she realized that she had caused that reaction. There was some small part of her that was nearly ecstatic about that, that she could have that burden on a man. Her sureness soared to new tiptop and her feminine ego seemed to grow by just a minor measure as well. It was exciting on so many levels.

Their faces pulled apart slightly as they broke the kiss. eye searched eyes. Hearts raced and they were both nearly panting as they caught their breath. The sun finally dipped below the horizon and the Christ Within faded to nearly darkness. Yet their eyes shined brightly with desire and wonder at this find. A belief of expectancy was palpable for both of them. Even as Floyd released his hold on Shobha's tail end and she met his hands at her hips with both of her own. They interlocked their digit and held them lightly.

The sound of the surf and the gulls overhead seemed to fade slightly. Oddly, the sound of their heartbeats in their own ears got louder. A notion of ... not quite sorrowfulness, but a little sorrow came over both of them as they searched for answers in each early's center yet again.

"Shobha ... I ..."Floyd began, stumbling verbally as he searched for the words for the impression he wished to verbalise."I ... Thank you. give thanks you for showing me that this could even be."He finally spoke.

"It is I who should be thanking you, perhaps."Shobha nearly whispered. Before continuing."Thank you for trusting me. I feel so happy to deliver met someone I can feel condom with, to express and share my touch and desires with. Even if it is but here in this divided up blank space that we've created. I almost don't want to leave."She said with a saddened smile.

"I know what you mean. This topographic point is ... magical. And you. You are like a djinny in the bottle. You are conjuration incarnate. I could trip the light fantastic with you every night, and I am not usually a dancer at all. I hope ... I hope we can do this again ... sometime ?"Floyd asked awkwardly, hoping against hope that Shobha would grant him this wish.

"I would be intimate to, do this again. And, perhaps ... even more ?"Shobha responded hopefully.

Floyd could study between the demarcation, he too could feel the excitement and anticipation of foster exploration of the possibleness of what they could share going forward. He smiled but his part was choked for the bit so he brought Shobha's right handwriting to his lips and kissed the book binding of her fingers delicately. Finding his voice, he began to speak ... but the sound of a telephone set ringing in the distance distracted him. half turning his chief, he broke eye contact with Shobha and the ringing grew much louder ...

Suddenly Floyd found himself with his left hired hand in front man of his face, sitting at his desk in front of his electronic computer. The phone beside his pc was ringing. He had to flash a few times before he realized that he was back ... back in the mundane realness of the real Earth. Yet despite the plangency of the telephone beside him, he could faintly hear the strains of the last song they had heard from the Café ... Wicked Game. ~I never dreamed I'd love somebody ... like you ... I never dreamed that I'd lose person like you ... No, I want to fall in love ... No, I want to fall in dearest ... With you ... With you ... ~

-To be continued-