Wednesday, May 9, 2012

The Future Came Calling

They sat down and had a cup of coffee together.  He suggested a game of chess, (something she was secretly terrible at), and she agreed.  Why not?  Like the humans who had succeeded the gods at Ragnarök, she felt like she was the answer to the last question, and there was nothing better than to play a little game of verbal chess.

But chess hadn’t been invented yet, so they simply sat in silence together over their cups of coffee.

Eventually...

“Do you think you’ll go out tonight?” he asked, politely.

She looked out over the ruined landscape, wondering why the earth hadn’t regenerated as promised.  “Well,” she hesitated to answer, “I don’t really have anything to wear.”  Her voice trailed off in the cool evening, blending with the smoke of destruction that still hung in the air.

He set his cup down, carefully.  It was, after all, a rather dainty cup.  Certainly dainty for this environment, she thought, like the china that must have gone down with the Titanic.  What must the fishes have thought of *that*?

“What time do you think you’ll be back?” he persisted, still politely.

“Well,” she sighed, “I suppose around 1 or 2...”  She looked at him directly.  “...in the morning.”

Without hesitation, he responded, “Oh... I’d much rather you were back around 11.”  He gave her a rueful smile.  “In the evening.”

It was already dark.  What did time even matter? she wondered silently.  “Of course,” she said aloud in patient agreement, but to no one in particular, because he had already gone.

*

When she returned, she found him on the couch, untied and unbuttoned.  She’d never seen him so casual before -in fact, she liked to joke to her friends that she was quite certain he’d been born wearing a tux.

She set her things down on the table beside the door -just a small bag, and her keys -and kicked off her shoes.  Holding up the hem of her long dress, she carefully picked her way through the ruins to him, dropped to her knees between his, and gently grabbed his chin in her hand.  She tried looking into his eyes, but they were closed, so she warmly touched his forehead instead.  He felt a little sweaty.

He’d never seemed so adorable to her as now.

She whispered something in his ear that no one else could hear, (something that woke him), and he stirred, (a little), and his eyes fluttered open.  “What time is it?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“11,” she lied.  It was firmly after 1 or 2, but it didn’t matter, she’d decided.  She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her chest into his, and he pressed back.  His hands found the back of her dress, and deliberately, (she could feel his hands -large, and warm, and reassuring), the dress slowly came undone.

When she stood up though, the dress did not fall down.  Instead, with one hand she held it up by the front and with the other -she reached out to him.  He took her hand, his eyes and mouth both only half open, and she led him to bed.

*

When he woke, she was gone.  He looked out through the broken window.  The sun was shining in.

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