He reaches towards her, his hand outstretched - in offering,
in request, in longing - in waiting to gently enclose her
hand inside it and walk away with her into the horizon
forever.

A brilliantly white
And dimpled smile
congeals on his face

A hopeful eyebrow
Glides smoothly up
Praying this time
To have placed the right bet

The very picture
Of cool confidence
But an agitated cacophony rages within

Which, try as he might
He can almost hide
But the terrified music
Seeps out through his eyes

A droplet of sweat slips down his nose unnoticed, as he
remains fixated upon her like a statue, frozen by the fear
that burns just beneath his surface, threatening to erupt
and ruin everything.
He begins to take a deep breath, to urge her gently on,
despite the risk of flight involved. they had been standing
this  way for an hour, give or take a couple of minutes.
"...Well?" he says, in the softest, sweetest and most
cajoling voice he can muster while still sounding like the
proud owner of a pair of balls.
She smiles dryly back at him and glances at her watch.
"Too bad," she answers with a sultry shrug, and says this
last so that there is no doubt as to what she might mean;
"three and a half more minutes - and you'd have been home
free."
She gently detatches his outstretched hand and locks it in
the pink dresser drawer behind her.
"You can have it back when you start acting your age." she
purrs at him in leaving, and shuts the door behind her,
taking the dresser key with her.