Vignette 6
The city seems bigger at night. During the day, when all the hubbub is around you, and you can take in the scents of saffron and taragon along the streets, when the sun beats down like a wet whip on the back of your neck, the city presses in, is impressive in its oppresiveness. At night, though, it shines. Needles of concrete and glass rise up along the skyline and from here, way above the streets and the crowding, it looks like serene islands in this sea of humanity. I sip my milky chai and stare out into the face of the city, and I wonder at the marvel that is human ingenuity.
She curls around me, twining her hands beneath mine and resting her head against my back. The sunburn beneath my shirt reminds me insistently that it still exists and has every intention of making my life hell tomorrow. I know better than to go out in weather like this without sunblock. I don’t sweat in this dry heat, and that tricks me every time into thiking that I won’t burn either. Her hair is still wet and smells like lavender.
From here, from this vantage, the world carries a beat, a slow rhythm with poetry softly spoken over it. Time slows to a crawl, and while I know it’ll pick itself back up again, I know that this peace will not last. Soon, it will be time to run again.
I turn and I wrap myself around her, squeezing her until I hear her gasp. I press her body against me, fill myself with the scent of her hair, remember every curve and dip and line in her body, then I let her go, and we go to bed. It’s the last time she’ll ever see me.
This image was straight-jacked from Lost in City Lights. You should go over there to look at pretty pictures.
