She opened her eyes and stared at the
ceiling. The window was wide open and a cool breeze played with the long,
white curtains while the morning sun had turned the entire room golden, as if
it had been dipped in honey.
She could hear him breath next to her. She timidly peered over to him. He looked peaceful, innocent. His
skin glistened and his lips were perfectly drawn. His nose was straight, his
eyebrows dark. She did not remember the colour of his eyes – brown, I think.
His hair was tousled and perfectly framed his face.
She slowly turned to her side and watched
his chest rise, then sink with every breath.
‘Who are you?’, she whispered.
She slowly moved out of bed and slipped
into a pair of white slippers that had been waiting for her small, soft feet.
She glanced at herself in the large mirror across the room. She was wearing a
white, transparent nightgown. Her long, brown hair covered her breasts.
She felt a feeling of warmth run through
her heart, followed by a smile, another look at him.
She stepped out on the balcony and glanced
across the many roofs of the city. She took a deep breath. The air was sweet,
filled with the scent of flowers and the scent of lovers making love.
Love, yes, this was love.
She looked at him through the window. He
smiled in his sleep. How beautiful he was. She almost began to sing, then to
dance. Then she laughed, loudly and full-heartedly.
She went back inside and walked around the
bed. She looked at him from every side, each angle. She went closer and placed
her finger on his forehead. Then she slowly moved it down his nose, over his
lips, down his chin and neck, to his chest. With her petite hands she lifted
the pastel-blue blanket and carefully pulled it from his body to expose his
stomach, his hips, his legs, and his feet to the light of the sun. Then she continued to
move her finger down his body until she reached the toes on his right foot. He
moved slightly. She giggled and blushed.
He started to move more. He was going to wake
up. She felt nervous, anxious, joyful and overwhelmed.
‘I love you’, she whispered.
She sat down on the window sill and
observed his every move with a childlike curiosity and naive excitement.
He sat up in bed and looked at her. He smiled;
she turned red and sheepishly looked out of the window at the empty street. A
man on a bicycle was passing by with flowers under his arm.
He got up and walked over. She could feel
his breath on her neck and shoulder. His hand slowly moved down her arm, then
his hand embraced hers. They stood for a while and watched the street come to
life. Then they looked at each other and smiled. Both of them shy, happy and
cut off from the world, within these four walls that she had created. Beyond
which there was nothing.
‘Only you and me’, he said.
They danced and with every step their
hearts seemed to turn younger and their passion burn brighter.
‘We
have lost her.’
They danced. They danced forever and smiled
at each other. Everything was bright and gold and everything was good.
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