Yulia has her version to tell. Just one of those chance moments when two people’s lives intersect. Dice cast on the felt table of possibility. She’d call it chemistry, credit pheromones, liken it to molecules colliding, gravitating together, charges drawn across an abyss.
Peter smiles, laughs, and puts his arm around her. Science is her religion. It explains everything, including its own limitations.
He ponders the dance. The ying of perfume, soft skin, hinting smile. The yang of her science. Art arranged black silk, red hat. this beautiful woman. Perception, his appreciation, led to love, the fulfillment of greater promise.
Picture linked via Cow Pasture Chronicles.