by Ginger Segreti
I sat spellbound as I listened to him read. The words he spoke reached a depth of me that I hadn’t felt ignited in a long time. I watched as his gaze alternated between peering out across the audience and sporadically descending to his notes. He would pause and then charge forward, his voice stretching from his lips and enveloping the space in a soft entreaty. It was as if his breath warmed me and compelled me towards him. His look was clean and polished, the only hint of ruggedness the stubble from a five o’clock shadow.
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