Déjàvu (The Silence)
She walked into the room and noticed it was dark. A breeze was blowing in through the curtains. She had left the window open. She went to close it, noticing the bottle of wine she had opened earlier almost entirely empty. Had she really drank that much? She looked out and saw the bright moon bathing the otherwise dark living room in light. It was chilly. Brisk. And she noticed she was in her underwear. Why was she in her underwear? And for that matter she could not remember what she had come into this room for. Then she felt it, the touch of long slender hands reaching down her arms from behind her. Not in a threatening manner but in a soft caressing way. She should be terrified, not knowing who was touching her in her own home this late at night. But something about the embrace felt so familiar, like the warmest déjàvu she had ever experienced. And then she saw it. Hands. Long, impossibly long, grey hands, interlocking around her bare stomach. Her eyes widened. She pulled away immediately in shock, terrified. And then she saw his face. That same grey alien expression she had learned to love. She had forgotten him again, as usual. But every time he came to visit her on their late night "encounters", she remembered him once more. She came closer and gently caressed his large grey face. "Sorry about that.", she said, running a finger down his soft grey skin." I'm glad you came back to me." She grabbed his long fingers and gently pulled him towards the other room.
She found herself all of a sudden walking in the dark in her underwear. Why was she in her underwear? And her special laced underwear at that. Something was in her hand. She was pulling something long and grey. She gasped in fright and turned, instantly remembering what she was doing. "Whew. How about I just walked backwards then huh?" She kept her eyes on his large unblinking stare. Pulling him by the tie now and walking step by step backwards until she felt her legs hit the soft mattress of her bed. "Made it.", she whispered, lips shaking slightly, remembering all of the moments he had caressed those lips with his-
She opened her eyes and for a split second she couldn't make out who was standing over her or why. And then she saw him again, and realized she must have closed her eyes. She began to unbutton his white shirt, biting his tie as he slowly tilted his head to the side, watching her. How she loved his style, his dedication to always show up in a freshly pressed suit to see her. She interlaced her fingers in his long unearthly hands. She smiled and brought one of the extra long fingers to her lips for a soft kiss, thinking about the other part of him that was slender and long and lay yet to be uncovered. She pulled him toward her on the bed and closed her eyes.
She blinked. She was in bed. She brushed back the messy hair from her forehead and rubbed her face. She was having a fantastic dream, and she found herself blushing and slightly out of breath thinking about it. But slowly it began to fade away, and now she could barely remember. What was it? She felt a chill in the room. She had left the window open in the study. She got up to close it and noticed she was naked. Her favorite set underwear lay tossed in a pile in the corner. She looked at the empty bottle of wine and groaned, throwing it in the recycling bin and throwing on pajamas on her way back to bed.