Lets roll back time.
Be who we want to be. I’d be your Bogart, you, my Ingrid Bergman.
Us in a chilly Casablanca night. Me, casually leaning against one of the wooden pillars at Gare de Casa port while you sit on the bench waiting for the next train to arrive. I slide my hand in the Burberry trench coat and take out a pack of Chesterfields. Light one up and pour the smoke in the silent atmosphere. You Look up, and I follow your gaze. Its ten minutes to the train as the station clock’s lazy hands get about their business as usual.
You take a deep breath and look around. That is where our eyes meet. We stay like that. A strange urge makes me want to stay my eyes locked with yours. Time trickles in its entirety. You get up, ever so slightly, and start walking towards me. Our eyes still locked, me under those hazel spells. Gradually the distance between us shortens. We can hear the train whistling in the distance as it slowly approaches the station. You don’t even look back to confirm if the train has arrived, which is surprisingly on time. It is a shortstop for it anyways. Three minutes. Doors open, but no one gets off. You reach me and your walk comes to a halt.
I take another drag and puff it in the air. You look at my two fingers that clasp the burning ember in it. That’s the first time your eyes look away from mine. You raise your hand and take hold of the cigarette.
“These will kill you, Rick.” You say as you throw the half burnt cigarette away.
I smile at you.
“Then come lets live Isla. Lets live.”
I take my back off the wooden pillar and lean into you. My hands grab hold of your waist as my lips come down to meet yours.
The train whistles its intent to leave. Slowly the wheels begin to move.
We stay in the kiss as the train catches speed on the lonely Gare de Casa port station.
And the soundtrack by Jimmy Van Heusen plays.
“Heaven can wait”.
