There are times when they seem to be trapped in a
gorgeous, stained glass window of a moment and she thinks
she could want nothing more than to simply die, both of
them together, before it ends. She tries, but even her
imagination cannot stretch past the frenzied rush of heat
and peace and sweetness and light that burst through her
for no reason at all. And so she thinks of dying. Of car
wrecks late at night when the silky quiet is wrapped up
between their laced fingers. Of never waking up from arms
that hold her as though she might escape even when he is
deeply, deeply asleep. She thinks that dying happy might
be the only way to ease the panic.
She would never be able to explain it, but there
are times she misses her dishwater life with Roy. She
misses the familiar ache of unhappiness; a dull,
throbbing pain like a headache. Now, with him, she’s been
yanked into a fairy tale, and she’s so afraid she thinks
her heart might burst because she has never done anything
to deserve this much happiness. It can’t be possible to
have so much, she knows that, and she’s read the fairy
tales, the real ones, where happily ever after lasts only
so long, and no matter what that beautiful boy says or
promises, the threat of losing him presses like blades
through her insides.
It’s hard to be afraid all the time. An art
teacher once told her to draw the space around an object,
but she can no longer see the unfilled space around him.
He’s touched everything. Is everything. Every shiver in
her body and every taste in her mouth and every last
word.
There are so many ways to lose him that it
terrifies her. She holds him a little tighter at night,
praying that she’ll stop breathing long before his hands leave
her hair.
***
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop. And an unfortunate tendency towards procrastination.
Chapter End Notes:
I hope you liked it. The title is translated from a poem by Alfonsina Storni.
Kestrel is the author of 4 other stories.
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