Wednesday, June 18, 2014

(work in progress--continuation of the architect's daughter?)

Her eyes flew open with the beeping in her ears. She did not always awake to beeping. She knew this. But in her half conscious, unconscious, subconscious state it was hard to wrestle with any realization and the clearer solution was to roll over and sigh.
She did so.
Through her thin walls she heard Alex groan and toss sideways. Her door blew open a crack and she could see him on the couch with his hand dangling down, hanging. Each finger the weight of the world. His eyes were closed and in her heightened drowsy state she could pick out each little vein on his eyelids as if she could trace them with her fingers; with her eyes closed.
Shivering, she arose and pulled her white blouse closer. Maybe if she pulled tighter it would envelope her and she would poof off somewhere distant. Somewhere warmer would be nice. Greece always sounded appealing. Especially with the souvlaki on her tongue and the baklava on her plate. Her fingers tightened.
“Morning,” she whispered. But it was not for her own enjoyment. Or the benefit of anyone else. She just felt an urge to breach the silent. Let her letters print black lines in the white noise, the empty soundscape.
Feet thudding on the ground she rose mutedly, sidestepping so the door wouldn’t creak. Tiptoe. Tiptoe. Tiptoe. Tiptoe. Heel toe. Heel toe. Heel toe. Heel toe. She stopped in front of Alex. He looked so tired. Her arm suddenly emerged from her sleeve, fingers wavering, trembling. Would she touch him? She brought herself closer.
There was no pressure when he slept. She was in complete control. Complete control. She was in complete control. Her eyelids fluttered and she wished she were braver.
Greece, wouldn’t that be nice. Swirling white sleeves. Beeping for days.
A vibration from the other room sent her scattering and she snatched her phone, edging past. When she got to the apartment door, she looked back. 
Blue white seas. Eyelid river deltas. Hanging fingers.
Alex emanated another groan.
She hurriedly unlocked the door, a metal rectangle of paper memories, and clicked the frame shut behind her.

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