He drove away in the evening, dimly lit roads in the backwaters of Virginia, the air thick with humidity and heavy...you could feel the weight of it and how it layered itself upon you.
While his headlights carved yellow cuts against the darkness he remembered briefly how she layered herself upon him...a comforting sense, the rhythm of their breathing finally syncing, until they moved as one...laying in the bed, fully clothed.
He remembered getting up, leaving her calmly on the bed, the bed of her childhood in the room she grew up in...he went to the small bathroom, the tiny glass shelves with little glass bottles...he pulled one off and opened it...it smelled like lavender...it smelled like her bath water, her wet hair after a shower. He almost put it into his pocket as a keepsake...one that he could easily pluck from his pocket and unleash her presence...
But he set it back down carefully...nothing in the room belonged to him...and he hated the notion of thievery.
He ran a hand through his hair and returned back to her room, convinced he looked presentable.
She was turned away from him, her body gently rising and falling...it was still daylight outside.
She had taken off her socks and her toes were painted a coral that she preferred...she had really beautiful feet and he teased her about wearing men's socks. She just rolled her eyes and wore whatever she wanted. Foot massages were usually a strategic starting point...unrolling socks past the ankle and past the arch and applying warm oil or something similar...it was like he wanted to start at the tip of her...navigate his way to her middle, nuzzle her geography and meet her where her eyes lay, gazing at him, smiling.
But for now he was content with the quiet.
It hadn't always been that way...this late afternoon of pooling colors and soothing presence. There had been storms at times...interludes where he would beg for words to spill...for her to reveal. At times he felt like the mysterious flower that grows in the brick...many thought it a weed, perhaps she thought it lovely...he felt like it was impossible. He wanted so badly.
So for now he was content in the quiet.
Even the air seemed to change when she was in the same room...it was like adding a flower or lighting a scented candle...the air smelled better, it smelled cleaner. And while maybe it was just his imagination he loved breathing it in, filling his lungs and perhaps tiny molecules from her were part of it and she became part of his oxygen.
God knows he felt it when far away...the air like a dusty haze...he hated it.
He made his way over the bed and lightly tapped her on the shoulder...she murmured something, inaudible...he withdrew.
It was still light outside but growing dimmer.
Do you have to go? Her voice was a bit heavier with the nap.
I do.
Damn. She turned towards him and got on one elbow.
I'll walk you out.
Nooo. No. Stay here...you're comfortable.
I gotta get up anyways. She won the battle and got up, her hair askew and slept-in looking.
It was so nice to see you, he said.
So nice to be near.
She nodded, something she did when she was sad versus saying anything. It was her style, here in the daylight, fully clothed except for her shoes and socks.
He leaned in to kiss her and she met him halfway. It was soft, warm...and lingered just a second past being appropriate for a goodbye.
It was perfect.
Thoughts of her exploded in his mind as he drove through the night, thoughts reminiscent of the occasional firework that lit up the darkness on both sides of him as he headed north.
