She wakes up, breathless. It's still night, she can feel it without opening her eyes, the warm darkness wrapped all around her body. The others are certainly still asleep - she can almost feel their calm and rhythmic respiration, like a common heartbeat, like if they were one unique entity. She can hear the little current of water snaking around her bed; she can smell the discreet, fresh perfume of the green plants. She wonders if their artificial night coincides exactly with the natural circadian rhythm - or if outside the sun already spreaded its watercolor rays of light above the breathing earth... She likes to imagine the basement being surrounded by nature, fertile fields and deep forests. It's a little too warm here, the atmosphere is moist and heavy - which make her think it's probably hot Summer outside. Her hair curls from sweat at her forehead and her throat is a little dry.
The blood buzzing at her temples reminds her that her night have been agitated - full of dreams, so vivid that they still resonate in her bones, echoes of the past impregnating her flesh of memories; the touch of a hand brushing her cheek, a tender kiss on her forehead, the feeling of being hugged tightly by someone loved… These intense sensations haunting her dreams disturbed her so much the first times, that she started crying in her sleep and waking up soaked of tears, almost asphyxiated. But with time, she learned how to appreciate it, how to find some comfort in these stolen moments of imaginary tenderness. She knows that if she's enough focused on her sensations, if she manages to relax and reach a special state of consciousness, something like a kind of auto hypnosis, she can replay it as much as she wants, provoking the kinesthetic memories back and back again until she feels a little less empty, a little more alive. She wonders if Homer experiences this too, he who had the most useful advices and comforting words when she arrived, he who knows how precious dreams can be to survive their unbearable condition. Homer… Is he still asleep? She doesn't hear any sound from his side. These thoughts distract her from her dreams, and she feels almost totally awake mentally now. She stretches her muscles slowly, legs, arms, neck, then rolls on her side, facing the glass separating her from the other cell, her eyes still closed, her body heavy from too much sleep.
Homer faces her, as if he was waiting for her, laying on his side too. He can see her almost clearly, despite the low luminosity. Her silhouette guessed in the dark, her disheveled head and the curve of her shoulder, the naked bright white skin of her stomach, the wave of her hip bone at the hem of her dress. He doesn't move, absorbed in his contemplation, not sure if she's still sleeping or not, worried to disturb her peaceful moment. She knows instinctively when someone is watching her - so she opens her eyes, and greet him with a soft smile. Naturally, in a common and instinctive movement, they place their palms against the glass, meeting there silently. They use to spend more and more time like this these days, just facing each other in silence, just enjoying each other presence through the window - their hands caressing the glass to meet, fingertips against fingertips, tracing words and signs that only them understand, a new secret language that allow them to communicate without having to talk, creating a safe bubble around them where they are free to express their feelings.
Moved by his desire to be closer to Prairie, Homer rest his forehead against the fresh glass, a shy smile coming to his lips. With his thumb, he traces Prairie's features, the contour of her jawline and the delicate shape of her lips, caressing her chin tenderly. Their respiration create a little cloud of warm steam on the glass. Prairie inhales deeply - she's still so relaxed and sleepy that she can almost feel Homer's hand on her face, or at least she wish she could so intensely that her mind hallucinates his caresses. The craving for his touch never stops growing - and these shared moments of tenderness make her feel so restless innerly that she suddenly feels the need to act it out. Slowly, she moves her fingers to her cheekbone, lips, chin, caressing herself so softly that her tender skin starts tingling and burning gently - electricity spreading in her arms and legs as she imagines Homer's skin against her own. Homer smiles a little wider, his green eyes blinking slowly as he moves his hand to Prairie's neck, following the sharp angle of her shoulders, detailing her features carefully through the glass, as if she was able to feel it; Prairie's hand following the movement on her own body, deliciously . Against the glass, Homer's hand cups the bone of her hip before reaching her stomach, applying his whole palm against the glass, covering her skin totally, then playing light fingertips around her belly button. And Prairie's smile fades away as she traces lines and circles on her sweaty skin, lost in sensations, breathing sharply - always keeping eyes contact with Homer, following his gestures instinctively as if they were intimately connected, as if they were parts of the same person.
Sitting in front of his monitoring computers, Hap observe their two silhouettes moving slowly in the dark, mimicking each other movements, red and orange spots of heat covering their bodies at the most warm places, disclosing the intimacy of the moment. He can't help but notice the feverish rhythm of their hands and how they move closer to the glass, always closer... Unable to stop watching them, he wipes his sweaty forehead, then brutally push a button, turning the lights on in the cells. The white, artificial light of the neons dazzles the two prisoners who stay immobile, lost in each other's eyes, breathless, their bodies glued to the glass, so close, much closer maybe than they would ever be if they were able to touch each other properly. They stay there, unable to stop the contact, surprised in the evidence of their love transcending the moment, creating from their horrible experience the most deep, unbreakable bond they could have ever experienced.