Transient Bliss
The window is open, just like his mind. Outside there's a scent of jasmine on the air, people walking arm in arm. There's a sense of calm that cannot possibly last for longer than a fleeting second. True bliss is always transient, as thin as a spider's web and just as intricately woven. He knows this and yet his in his study, amidst books and ancient symbols of magic. The moment of perfect tranquility passes, and a light rain falls. He knows this, but keeps reading and slowly memorizing the words. His mind is clear and he knows his mission must come first, always first. There's never been a moment when he's not felt this. Not even in a lover's arms or in his sleep. Ever vigilant, ever distant. Because he has to be. Because if it's not him, it can't be anyone else. No one else can do what he does. That is enough. That must be enough.