I don't expect to get many hits on this one. Wrote it while watching Cloud Atlas for the third time. It's a drabble that has no purpose beyond my own musings.
She could no longer hear the words Joe Napier spoke to her. They got Isaac. She knew nothing, the moment dreamlike to her. Isaac, her Isaac. Except how could he be hers? She'd known him only a day, a few short hours. And yet. And yet she'd felt she'd known him all her life, or before it. The world was ending, and she was the only one who knew it.
Luisa convinced herself, after the entire debacle was said and done and her name was all over the papers, and on the glossy cover of a hardback, that life went on. And it did, though it seemed like she was moving through a fog most days. It was if that one moment in time had changed everything. The slow swing of the door, the reveal of Isaac's face wearing dual expressions of confusion and anticipation. And every word spoken after. She'd convinced herself he was simply a source. But when they'd talked, as solemn as the moment had been, she'd felt easy in his presence. Even with the threat of death hovering over their heads, she felt calm simply watching the fleeting expressions cross his face.
She was lying with him, a man she wished she'd never met. Sunlight streamed in the open windows, illuminating his skin with dawn's early light. He was asleep, and she wished she'd never fallen asleep by his side. He was a replacement, and not one that had given her any comfort. His body was tall and lanky, his face patrician, his skin pale and freckled. But his hair was too dark, too short. His smile too perfect, his attitude entirely too confident. She trailed her fingers across his arms, dusted with dark hair, careful not to wake him. She viewed his body, the covers thrown to the side so it was bared for her perusal. Would Isaac look like this when he slept? Would the small imperfections that marred this man's pale skin suddenly become endearing if they were on someone else?
She'd never know the answer to that question. Isaac was dead and the reason haunted her. He'd wanted to help her. She could picture his face, his endearing smile bringing to mind the eagerness of a puppy. He'd looked at her softly, as if he'd seen someone of worth. And he'd given her the story of a lifetime at the cost of his own.
She slipped out of the man's bed, simply one of a short line of men. She wouldn't see him again. He hadn't given her what she wanted. She was beginning to think no man ever would again.
One day, she reminded herself bitterly. You couldn't fall in love with someone in one day. If only she could believe it.