Dawn Her hair is a mess. Her make-up is smeared. Lying there, dressed only in a bed sheet, her breath comes noisy and shallow as she sleeps off the night. The cold pre-dawn does not flatter her.
But I know better. Nothing looks the way it should after darkness has set in.
Behind her, in the window, the sky turns pink, then red and the sun finally begins to rise. The light traces her curves - hips, waist, shoulder, cheek. It catches in the strands of her hair, turning the tangles into a delicate aura of gold. She sighs, soft and lovely. Liquid doe eyes look up and smile at me.
Perfection in a moment, in a look.
I take that look and memorize it, study it, store it away like a tiny ember so that it will sustain me. Her light will last me through the day, the night, the stress. A thousand hours of failures and flaws. Alone. Until the dawn.
Waiting The mist here makes everything look pale, soft. Not that there is much to see. There is the stone road beneath my feet and the trees that line it. And both are gray in the mist.
As I walk further down the road, I realize I have no idea how I got here. I could have sworn to you that five minutes ago, I was in the car with my friends. We were just driving along, having a good time... Maybe I was dreaming. Or maybe I'm dreaming now...
Things are lighter, whiter this far down the road. I can see a sort of raised dais with white stone steps that lead to a huge gleaming gate with intricate designs in the metal-work. A young woman sits on the raised dais before the gates. She has long dark hair with fading high-lights. Her elbows rest on her knees and her legs dangle over the edge of the dais. She has an unlit cigarette in one hand and she is staring off into the middle-distance somewhere off to her left, away from me. She looks impatient.