Obligatory Valentine’s Day Post:
Emily J Moore
So much space. The distance between the two of them was only millimeters. They lay, side by side. She and him. There was space though. It sat in the room, so heavy around them, humidity had a similar effect. It was unmeasurable. No ruler, scale, or beaker would suffice. Light years may have been capable…
He was searching the white popcorn ceiling for indication of more- proof. Looking for god, or magic, or inspiration, or, …
She was staring out the open window, connecting the tiny, white dots of the constellations she remembered from a past life.
Her past life. Lives. She’d led about 20 already. She wasn’t the same person she was the day prior. Was anyone really?
She had searched the mirror for over an hour and a half the morning before. Focusing on a scar that lingered near her neck. The trace of melanoma. She still wondered if the illness was in her psyche. A physical manifestation of the hurt her tells betrayed. She had tells.
He tried over and over again to read her tells. There was room for interpretation, and he kept his cards face down against the green felt. Exposing nothing. He didn’t even know what his hand held. Could be an ace. Could be a two. Could be a spade. Maybe a diamond. Probably not a heart. He placed his bets. Isn’t it true what they say, life is a gamble?
She was moving her lips to a lullaby she’d forgotten the words to. Noise wasn’t escaping. Nostalgia. Remembering how mother would lull her small body and mind to rest. She gazed out the window then too.
He found a Mickey Mouse eating the head of a rat in the random speckled texture above. Childhood abandoned.
"I don’t think I’ll go to work tomorrow."
She rolled towards him. Her hand rested on his chest. “Oh yeah?”
"Yeah, not tomorrow."
Lullaby. Mickey. Stars. Ceiling. Rat heads.
"What are you thinking about?" She had curled up nearer. Arm across his midsection, head on his chest.
He pulled her closer. Fingers woven together now. “Nothing really.”