Debt

We sat on the makeshift chairs in front of the cart. “How much do I owe you?” he asked. Turning to face him, I wondered if you could put a price on things, on the irresistible desire to kiss his milk moustache, to feel the warmth of his hands, to run my hands through his hair and to watch him smile, for hours. But I kept him away, far from the shipwreck that I am. “This one’s on me” I answered. He smiled. And my heart sank.