Untitled
by tremblingmoon
Author's Notes: Written for the "evenangels" community (Challenge #1) on LiveJournal. The prompts (in italics) were written by LJ user "flyingpeanuts."
In the vague shadows of a growing intimacy, night arrived. And we were still sitting, coffee cooling beneath the ceramic in our palms, watching the city steam through glistening glass. At the first drop, vapor rose from the pavement, and then the streets—impermeable, distinct, harder than I care to remember—began to fill with water, accompanied by a violent crescendo of thunder and the surge of traffic.
Rush hour. A winter storm. But they were beautiful. As beautiful as you, with your hair disheveled and your eyes dark. Sometimes, I tell myself that you already were imagining life without me, although you couldn't have known. Not yet.
The winter rain here beats hard enough to wash away dreams. But its tempo, its insistence, cannot contain my nightmares, and my feet, sinking deep (barefoot and numb, but I don't care) in mud remind me that while the city was substantial, unyielding, and lovely, the country, like quicksand, is unrelentingly fluid, quiet, and profound.
A tremor of lightening, the sky electrified and hissing, evokes the tangible current of our first (our only?) kiss, and the wind, cold rain blowing fiercely in my eyes, stings sharply of loss. For a moment, I cannot breathe. The memory of you whispered against my lips: Even my soul is wet.