The door creaked opened,
revealing the dingy room.
The first smell that hit
me wasn’t the musty aroma from the other day, it was the scent of shaving
cream—Tate’s shaving cream. A small smile lit my tremoring lips. This smell
warmed me …reassured me, erasing my fears. I reached around the door and
searched for the light-switch, flicking it up to turn it on. Nothing happened.
Scraps of light came from the glow of the moon shining in the window,
illuminating the dresser, but that was all.
I walked farther into the
room and advanced toward the dresser. The music got louder, reaching higher
crescendos. My face wrinkled in confusion, and I inched closer, trying to make
sense of it. Sad and melancholy notes sifted the room—heartbroken, bereaved.
Perplexed at what could be creating this, I opened up the top drawer of the
dresser—careful—not disturbing it.
The drawer was dark and
empty so I closed it, stepping back, listening. A delicate breeze tickled my
ear—like the feel of someone’s breath—making me grin. I glanced to the locked
window. Nothing could have come through there.
The feel of tenacious
arms cradled, pulled me in, holding me prisoner inside a satiny caress. It
mesmerized me—captured in a trance-like state. An arousal stirred deep, nerve
endings tingled.
Everything was
unbelievably good in this moment, I never wanted it to end. I stood there with
my arms wrapped around myself, eyes closed, swaying back and forth; this
wonderful feeling of pure, undeniable love surrounding me.
It went away as quickly as it came. A shutter
banging against the side of the house woke me, snapping me back to reality.
No comments:
Post a Comment