She's so like me, it could be me. The way her long, dark hair spills over her shoulders, and the dress she's wearing is the one I told you I wanted. Kingfisher Blue. She's sitting by the window, looking out towards the hills. A square of sunlight on the parquet floor fills with shadow. Just as I expected, it's you. You steal up to her, so close now I can smell your cologne and I feel the ache of longing as your hand settles at her waist. You're still wearing your wedding ring. I try to pull myself from my hiding place, but I'm paralysed. Your name catches in my throat. I want to cry out, but my lips make no sound. Slowly, she turns to face you and my heart is beating so fast it's going to break through the paper-thin wall of my chest. My hair is damp as you lift it from the nape of my neck. Soft kisses to wake me.
All day, the irresistible tug of another life. A butterfly flitting through gossamer. Did we head for the hills, after all?
heel print moon…
the paths we walk