Curtains Between

There were moments that he spent wondering and obsessing over their moments together. What was happening? And then there were moments where things were so simply clear that he chided himself, no scolded himself for having tortured his childlike mind. This night was a simple one the balmy heat cut by chilly drafts from the machine.

He steps into their room shared for so long - unmoved by the time they'd spent - lost as to what had spawned those nestled moments and entangled passions. He looked her over - a dent on the large bed, a curled up hand, one heel on the other legs knee, mid-sprint in deep sleep. His body aroused, his mind numb, animalistic.

He thought she had served his purpose, but turned in his shorts, to look once again. Something soft and soothing creeped up his body. He was looking at someone who during the day is so far, lost to him. Pre-occupation launches them far apart. Just as in sleep. Near but separated by infinity, by rips in time-space.

It was clear then what must be done. And then, moments later it was unclear again. This vacillation had been lodged within him for days. He was a brute now: technical, surgical, specific. But he knew that just as powerful were those times when he was frightened, subdued, in need of care. He buttoned up his shirt, hung his flaccid tie around his neck and headed for the door. Behind him, small movements could be heard on the bed as she slowly swam back to the shallow end of sleep.