"Visions of Ami" by Desslok
-----------------------------
I enter the room and find her sitting on the sofa. Her legs are
crossed daintily at the ankles; the tops of her soft white socks
rub gently against each other. A notebook lies on the folds of
her blue skirt, which has drifted just a little higher than she
would like, if she were paying attention to such things. Her
flawless skin glows between the white and the blue and I ache to
touch her. She looks up. She always looks up. Her glasses have
slid down her nose slightly and she considers me over them. She
smiles slowly, her eyes soften, and my heart melts for the
thousandth time.
-
She's grown used to me finally. Having lived alone for so long,
I am not accustomed to sharing a bathroom. At first, it would
alarm her when I would barge in on her while she bathed or
showered. I did not mean to disturb her privacy, but I also
didn't hurry to leave. Now, she accepts it, as she accepts
everything about me. As I stroll in, I am blissfully unaware of
the delights that await. She is just rising from the tub as I
notice her presence. Small bubbles cling to her body. Water runs
slowly to the floor. I can see the taut muscles normally hidden
beneath her skin as she reaches for a towel. Ever mischievous,
her eyes twinkle as she regards me, lifting the towel to her damp
blue hair. I can only stand in awe as she draws the thick cloth
across her chest and arms. She lifts her delicate foot to the
edge of the tub, turning her leg slightly to tense her calf as
she slowly, ever so slowly, runs the towel down to her toes. I
am lost, unable to withstand her. She is Beauty and Grace and I
feel unworthy of her, until her eyes find mine. Then, everything
is all right.
-
There is a bandana covering her head, replacing the deep blue
sheen of her tresses with pale green. Strands of her hair leak
out around the edges and over the knot she has tied, tiny blue
flowers dotting a gentle green meadow. I can see the light
glimmer of perspiration as she raises the rag once again to clean
the streaks on the window that overlooks our yard. I pause from
my sweeping to watch her, seizing the opportunity to do so
unnoticed. Each motion of her hand is precise, geometrically
perfect as she herself is. Her fingers press the cloth to the
glass and I wonder how such slender, nimble things can contain so
much strength and power. I quiver at the thought of what they
have done to me in the past and find myself momentarily
distracted. My gaze follows my thoughts, drifting downward.
I've suggested she get some new work clothes but she cannot bear
to part with her denim shorts, no matter how frayed they are at
the edges or how tightly they hug her body. Geometric precision.
The sweeping has stopped and a sigh escapes my lips even as I
look up and catch her staring directly at me, her gaze capturing
mine in the clear glass. She turns her head to regard me over
her shoulder; her eyes smolder and I am hers, again and forever.
-
I see her every day. Some days, I see her for the very first
time, all over again.
-----------------------------
I enter the room and find her sitting on the sofa. Her legs are
crossed daintily at the ankles; the tops of her soft white socks
rub gently against each other. A notebook lies on the folds of
her blue skirt, which has drifted just a little higher than she
would like, if she were paying attention to such things. Her
flawless skin glows between the white and the blue and I ache to
touch her. She looks up. She always looks up. Her glasses have
slid down her nose slightly and she considers me over them. She
smiles slowly, her eyes soften, and my heart melts for the
thousandth time.
-
She's grown used to me finally. Having lived alone for so long,
I am not accustomed to sharing a bathroom. At first, it would
alarm her when I would barge in on her while she bathed or
showered. I did not mean to disturb her privacy, but I also
didn't hurry to leave. Now, she accepts it, as she accepts
everything about me. As I stroll in, I am blissfully unaware of
the delights that await. She is just rising from the tub as I
notice her presence. Small bubbles cling to her body. Water runs
slowly to the floor. I can see the taut muscles normally hidden
beneath her skin as she reaches for a towel. Ever mischievous,
her eyes twinkle as she regards me, lifting the towel to her damp
blue hair. I can only stand in awe as she draws the thick cloth
across her chest and arms. She lifts her delicate foot to the
edge of the tub, turning her leg slightly to tense her calf as
she slowly, ever so slowly, runs the towel down to her toes. I
am lost, unable to withstand her. She is Beauty and Grace and I
feel unworthy of her, until her eyes find mine. Then, everything
is all right.
-
There is a bandana covering her head, replacing the deep blue
sheen of her tresses with pale green. Strands of her hair leak
out around the edges and over the knot she has tied, tiny blue
flowers dotting a gentle green meadow. I can see the light
glimmer of perspiration as she raises the rag once again to clean
the streaks on the window that overlooks our yard. I pause from
my sweeping to watch her, seizing the opportunity to do so
unnoticed. Each motion of her hand is precise, geometrically
perfect as she herself is. Her fingers press the cloth to the
glass and I wonder how such slender, nimble things can contain so
much strength and power. I quiver at the thought of what they
have done to me in the past and find myself momentarily
distracted. My gaze follows my thoughts, drifting downward.
I've suggested she get some new work clothes but she cannot bear
to part with her denim shorts, no matter how frayed they are at
the edges or how tightly they hug her body. Geometric precision.
The sweeping has stopped and a sigh escapes my lips even as I
look up and catch her staring directly at me, her gaze capturing
mine in the clear glass. She turns her head to regard me over
her shoulder; her eyes smolder and I am hers, again and forever.
-
I see her every day. Some days, I see her for the very first
time, all over again.
