One word for her – Ethereal
One word for him – Melancholy
They meet on the train to Nowhere. Melancholy asks ‘Where are you from Ethereal? She says, ‘from out of this world’. ‘And what about you Melancholy?’ he replies, ‘from a place halfway between joy and sorrow.’
They cast silent gazes on each other and nod.
What do you do? Melancholy asks Ethereal, ‘I fill up white spaces. I write, she says. ‘And I suppose you are a poet’ with a wry inquisitive smile, she prods him.
‘But, how do you know. We’ve never met before, I can’t remem...’ ‘We know our names, don’t we? And don’t trust memory, it’s full of deceit’ interjects Ethereal.
Melancholy shifts his gaze out of the window, framing the world passing him by with a rhythmic strut of the eyelashes; storing memories for another time. Ethereal follows suit.
As the light fades, their eyes start to light up like those of Jaguars in the wild, untamed.
It’s almost twilight; he resembles a Zen master, some sort of sorcerer from another world. And she a sea which comes to a still after centuries of yearning, consumed in this moment, like it was all that she ever wanted.
Their gaze is stoic now, unlike the train, which is slowly gathering speed, chugging, bellowing, and cutting the wind in the tunnels into jagged wails of longing.
Soon her eyes turn to his long slender fingers, streaming out of his palm which lay on top of the other, snug on his thighs. Her swan-like white fingers are drawn to his, aching to rest, dance the unfinished dance.
She swiftly makes her move, gliding over to his side - a veil of warm air separating them. He could feel her pulsing presence next to him. The wrinkles on his face vanish with the constant stream of cold air ringing through the window.
Her breath grows louder, bit by bit, drowning the whir of the wind, and her lips brim with auras like a mythical star. She draws closer to him, sliding her fingers into his, catching a glimpse of the lines on his palm. Her memory forgets.
Then suddenly his eyes twirl and he wantonly turns his face. And just when his eyes lock into hers; it’s static, and they burst into flames.
Leaving behind only laughter; Melancholic and Ethereal
The train keeps chugging along to Nowhere...