The Heart - Sex Stories

The Heart

... and I know nothing about you, but when I look at you, I feel your sadness.” “Are you an empathetic person?” Emily asked. “I don’t know,” he answered, chuckling. “I never thought of myself like that, but lately I seem to feel things I’ve never felt before. I can’t explain it.” Emily nodded and glanced down at his journal and saw the pen now lying on the page, still surprised that the first thing he would say to her was so intimate. “Are you sad?” Emily asked. “Maybe it’s your sadness you’re talking about, not mine.” She paused and gazed into Walter’s eyes. Walter shrugged his shoulders again. “I don’t know. It’s just strange that we’ve never really said much to each other and now we’re talking about sadness. That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” “Yes, very.” Emily sighed deeply. “Well, I better get back to work. Let me know if you want more coffee.” She put the coffee pot back on the burner before going back to wrapping the silverware in napkins. Walter finished his coffee, closed his notebook and left the five dollar bill on the counter. It was the amount he left everyday and included Emily’s tip. “See you tomorrow.” He lifted his hand slightly, waving goodbye, then opened the door and left. When the door closed, Emily watched Walter walking away, get on his bike, and then, after wobbling for a moment, watched him continue riding down Main Street, still baffled by his question about sadness, especially since they had never really spoken to each other before. The next day ...

... when he walked in, Emily greeted him as usual, “Let me guess--apple pie and coffee” and they both laughed. When she served him, he thanked her. “So how are you today, Walter?” Emily smiled at him. “Well, that’s a personal question,” he answered and laughed. “I didn’t mean anything personal, but after you asked me yesterday if I’m sad, I thought I’d take a chance and pry into your life. You don’t have to tell me how you are if it’s too personal.” She laughed. “I’m just teasing.” “Well, if you really must know, I’m fine, really.” “Cool.” Emily laughed again. “I’m so glad to hear you’re fine,” she added, enjoying their playful banter and feeling more relaxed with him and glad that after months of never really speaking to each other, a barrier had been broken. Walter took a sip of his coffee, opened his notebook and glanced up at Emily. “Well, I need to get back to work.” “Work?” Emily asked. “What are you working on?” “Poetry,” he answered, taking a pen from the pocket of his denim jacket. “Really? Are you a poet?” Emily asked. “Oops, sorry, I’m prying.” “That’s okay. I don’t know if I’m a poet or not, but since my operation I’ve been writing poetry and drawing. I was never interested in poetry. In fact I hated it in high school and hardly ever read books. So this is new for me.” “That’s good, that’s cool. Well, I won’t bother you. Enjoy the pie.” She glanced down at his notebook then walked away and returned to the ketchup bottles she was refilling. Occasionally she looked at ...