Who are you?
It was the question that floats in the mind of the young man who spends the night in bed in an unknown place. She was a maid, a lady who only sought to understand what was going on in that room. There were no words, no gestures between the two sides.
There was only silence.
She understood, and he did not understand. They were two strangers who seemed to know each other without ever having seen each other before. She was dangerous and he was a drifting rabbit. Lost. No sense and no intention of meeting.
Who are you?
He wondered again. But a mundane question in the midst of the moment, she just wanders into the darkness of uncertainty without really knowing why she was doing it. He just wanted to be close to that boy, who had been lost in his mind for days, maybe weeks or months. Years could also enter the ruled existential doubt of relativity. But it does not matter.
Time is essential for her. He had time to spare and sold it to life as money back. It didn't matter, his days weren't numbered like those of mortals. What were a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand years? His race was eternal as the stars, but not as eternal as the fleeting sensations of doubt itself.
Who are you?
Follow the question of both. A joint doubt that only serves to bring them closer together. But, despite everything she smiled, and he sighed. A new feeling was born there.
…
What is this?
There should be pain in the buried feeling of the heart, but there was nothing. Despite knowing that he must feel some pain, he only felt life. Life itself. As if the union will not affect the early separation of the bodies.
She sighs. He gasps.
There is no rhythm in the action, both are inexperienced in the strange rhythm of life. What's going on? His arms burn, but he follows. She no longer feels her lips from feeling so much. They burn you. They burn. They weigh you down. She keeps thinking that this should never have happened, but they were.
It doesn't matter, she said. After all ... they were just friends in need.
…
What an occurrence, what an occurrence. Live life and life to death. What an occurrence. How could she have been so foolish to believe in him. His hands tremble with untamed passion and fear drains the anxiety from his soul… there is something in her that he never believed he had.
Fear.
More fear.
She wants to cry. There is nothing to fear, because life comes from the act, and from touch comes love. She knows it and so does he. But he doesn't know what she knows, and that will make him understand that he is an untouched jerk of emotions.
…
So then.
…
How it should be.
...
She got pregnant, and he didn't find out until much later. A beautiful girl ... With blond hair, almost green, almost white, almost identical to both. She was small. Tiny, defenseless.
She feared for her.
She feared for him.
She feared for both of them.
…
He soon knew.
…
And the story just continues, because they both stayed together. But not so close as to be loved, not so far as to be hated ... close enough to hold close to the only creature that held them together: their hybrid daughter.