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A
candle flickers into a hundred little sunbeams drifting through the
dark. They play on the walls and on her face. She lies back and
wonders where he is. Idly trailing her fingers, she wonders what he's
doing. Fingers to flesh, she remembers. Heat. Palm flat across her
stomach, she wonders what he feels like now. She wonders what he
feels. Butterflies. They never like that question, and flutter fast
behind her belly button when she's excited, and when she wonders. And
when her hand follows a candle flicker over her leg and remembers. Oh
yes, it's a wonder, what she remembers. Desire. She lifts her hand in
front of her face and watches it shake. Why does it still do that
sometimes? She wonders. It stops though, when she rests it over the
butterflies, and remembers. She strokes them, and feels him. She
wonders if he knows. Is he dreaming right now, she wonders, like he
sometimes does. Her hands wander while she wonders, just in case he
is. She could keep going, until the trembling moves past her hands,
into her body, beyond her thoughts, seeking his. When the shudders
cease, and she whispers his name, will he hear her? She wonders... © 2004 Sonja Torres  |