Mist

In the light of those eyes.
In the slow turn sideways.
May this not be a gamble.
A chance meeting.

We stand frozen in the moment.
Waiting for the other to shoot first.
Breathing heavily,
as a great darkness unfolds.

Mist rolls through…..
A slow detachment follows.
Finger tips unravel swiftly.
Mouths open and shout.

“Here over there,”
someone screams.
Dead with uncertainty.
And I run, run into the grey.