And So It Goes
"I don't think it really matters, at this point", he said, glancing sideways at the darkened street and the diagonal breaks of light coming from the lamps. He looked down at his shoes, scraping the side of one against the pavement to get some scuff off. He was waiting for a response. He had never been able to read her well in such moments. She was unpredictable. At the best of times you could anticipate the opposite of whatever would be normal. At the worst of times you had to stay calm and brace for chaos. She stood looking at him. Porcelain skin, long lashes over misty eyes; face framed in the deepest of black, black hair. The glimmer of hope in her eyes had faded, and he could tell she was thinking. A lonely car passed by, hungry tires churning at the asphalt, the breeze in its wake ruffling scattered debris: papers holding notes and numbers absent from anyone's attention. Perhaps they were no longer needed. Perhaps they were misinterpreted; lost in translation. Perhaps they slipped out of pockets and lives without even being noticed. He could feel the crisp air against his cheeks and the breath escaping through his parted lips. He sensed she was watching him now, and his eyes came back to meet hers. She smiled in shades of melancholy. Or maybe it was pity. He wasn't sure, and this uncertainty shivered inside him like an echo of distant times when her hidden glances had drawn him in; had left him helpless; had left him void of reason but full of passion beyond his previous capacities. With a subtle sigh, she raised her long, slender arm, and with fine fingers reached over and into his chest, piercing his ribs and grasping his heart. He kept his eyes fixed on her, slightly closed, fully alert. She pulled back, heart in hand, and held it before him. Relaxing her grip, she opened her palm so that his still-beating heart lay exposed, pulsing to the steady rhythm of the night around them. He could feel the air rushing inside him, caressing the sides of the wound she had just opened. His whole body was awake. He could feel gravity, his own weight holding him down, his legs working to keep him up, tall, resolute. His lungs filled and released. He wanted to look down, but he kept his eyes on hers. She watched him, and then looked at the heart resting before her.
"You're sure?", she asked softly. His lips stayed closed when he tried to respond, so he nodded slowly. She lowered her outstretched hand, and in a swift and powerful motion raised it, throwing his heart into the restless night sky that swallowed it without mercy or hesitation, a blanket of scattered stars, a patchwork of wandering wisps of clouds, and dreams, and isolated tears. A single raindrop came falling back down and landed on her hand; the hand that had cradled his head so many times on lazy afternoons, in winding and far off corners of a colourful and endless world that they had roamed together for so long. He remembered laying down with his head on her thigh, her fingers brushing through his hair. He remembered the smell of the sea, the waves crashing in the distance, the breeze dancing with the curtains of their open window. She had reached down and kissed his forehead drawing every dormant corner of his being to attention, then kissed his eyelids as he felt forever move through his body, and finally kissed his lips as he felt everything fade away, leaving only their isolated spirits, tangled flames in the perfect white of eternity. Now, in the midst of this moody nightfall, and while keeping his eyes on hers, he reached out and pulled her hand to his lips, kissing the raindrop that had fallen from the sky above.
"I'm sorry", he finally said, moving her hand to his cheek, and as he did so, he could feel the earth spin. As he pressed her hand more against his face, the lamenting world began to spin faster and faster. He had tried to step forward closer to her but found himself powerless, and this final gesture of taking her hand was all he could manage. Now, as the spinning accelerated - faster, and faster - he focused completely on her. He stopped trying to hold himself up, and in letting go, found that he was still standing tall, the vortex keeping him up. The world was now violently turning around them, and in the total blur that encircled them, small embers started forming, riding the spiral, distinguishable from the matte rush of colours. As more and more embers formed, they came forward from the worldly mass, slowing down gradually, descending, filling the space around them with light. His eyes were still on hers, and she continued to return his gaze, and the flowing embers came forward, and started rushing, one by one, into his open chest, filling him, in turn, with light. As more and more embers flew inside him, the brightness around them increased. More and more, until it was too bright to see clearly, and all his eyes could capture was the outline of her body, and her glowing eyes still looking at him. Everything was lightness, and the world was gone. He could just barely make out his hand, still holding her hand against his cheek. He felt her fingers move and take his hand in hers. He could not feel his legs anymore. He could not feel his weight. But he could feel her presence. He could see her. He let out a sigh of happiness, and sadness, and longing, and nostalgia, and ghosts of a million jumbled words he had never voiced. She moved closer to him and he felt her lips touch his, and he pressed his firmly against hers, holding onto the impossible and grasping the unreachable, and as he did so, a rush of wind came and pulled her away from him, and as she was carried away, and the lightness around began to fade, he felt himself falling, falling, falling.
- Matei Vasilescu | @heymatei
