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| Short Stories : Light on the edge |
The light of the sun broke in the wind chimes of colored glass and pearls and conjured up colored light reflections on the bare walls of the room.
The dots flickered playfully across the woman's face, making her blink.
She almost expected her cat to jump on the bed to catch one of these nimble points of light, but then she smiled and realized that she wasn't home at all.
It was Wednesday and she was waiting.
Waited for the man she loved. The man who filled this void in her life.
Tenderly she stroked the still cool half of the bed and comfortably closed her eyes at the thought that he was about to come through this door.
He loved it when she was waiting for him here, only covered by the cool sheets.
And she loved his impatience, that he couldn't wait to undress, slip under the covers, be inside her.
But then he took his time, whispered caresses in her ear that sometimes made her blush, and when he looked at her, for the first time in her life she had the feeling of being really perceived as a person, really being there.
She felt safe and secure around him, knew he would catch her, because he knew her fears and longings better than she did.
For the first time in her life she had just let go, taken a risk. Had given himself to him without a mask, without a wall, defenseless.
She looked at the clock. He came late today, and for a brief moment the fear crept back into her that she might lose him.
She froze and snuggled deeper into the soft sheets.
No, he would be there in a moment, he had promised.
"Trust me, I love you." he had said ...
At the same time.......
He had been sitting in the little café across the street from the hotel for three quarters of an hour.
He had seen her go inside, knew that she was waiting for him now, and it was damn hard for him not to cross the street to be with her at last.
She was wearing the thin summer dress again that hugged her body with every step she took.
He liked looking at her, and she knew it. She could blush like a little girl at times, but he loved her reserved manner.
And he, too, often felt like a schoolboy when he kept sending her short messages during the day, just two or three lines to tell her how much he missed her.
His stomach tightened painfully at the thought of hurting her like this, and at the same time he hated himself for being cowardly.
He had never felt so close to someone, that made him happy and at the same time it scared him as hell.
The fear of getting lost ... in her, in his love for her. He was afraid that he would give up his life for her, give up everything that had previously seemed important to him.
He called the waitress, paid for his coffee, and put out his cigarette. Then he walked away without looking back.
And he hoped she would understand. His eyes burned.
For him there was no light on the edge ...
Author : Birgit Enser
