The Night.

Finalist in the 'Word Express 2010' competition

The Night is cold. The worst kind of cold. The kind that turns your breath to steam. Only you’re not breathing.

The Night is still. The silhouette of the woman before you is the only thing you can see. The only thing you want to see.

The Night is dark. Thank god the night is dark. She hasn’t seen you. Not yet. But you can see her. It seems she makes her own light.

The Night is silent. You fear even to blink for a blink would echo like a gunshot through the silence atop this building.

The Night is ugly. Normally, nothing would seem more beautiful but the woman before you steals the enigma that the night once held.

The Night is alive. It is alive and you feel you must move with it. You go to every strain to keep still but you are pulled towards her by pure instinct. You’ve seen her, heard her. But now you smell her. She smells like angels ought to smell.

The Night is urgent. You feel your body give way to its urges as your hand seems to raise itself and rest on her shoulder. She flinches, but only for a second. You both breathe simultaneously. You exhale, it brings relief. She inhales, it builds tension. You sense her tension, even welcome it. The moment would be awkward without it.

The Night is on fire. As she turns and faces you, your eyes meet. An instant understanding is realised. She leans towards you, your body mirroring her movement, your lips are only inches apart yet a lifetime seems to pass in waiting, waiting for them to meet. At last, you are one. Your hearts beating in time with one another, your lips seemingly inseparable, her tension relieved. The kiss you share is divine, infinite, bliss, but not love. You are not there for love. Neither of you are. Your kiss only questions her betrayal. Hers seems to beg for forgiveness. However, your question has no answer, her plea no acknowledgment. You are there for one thing. For one thing only.

The Night must end. Your hands slide from her waist to her shoulders. It is time to let go. Her tension returns. Undesired. But she hasn’t the strength to break free. Your arms extend further than it seems possible. Your heart beats fall out of time. Hers grows rapid. Yours remains calm. She holds on for dear life but it is useless. She’s lost her sense of poise. Balance. She falls. Her feet leave the sanctuary of the building top. The still air that the night once possessed is shattered as her body falls limply into space. The course of gravity, inevitable. She falls without grace.

After some time you turn, walking away without any sense of time. The sirens below are relieving, indicative of success. It is over. You are cleansed. It is as if what you both once had, never existed.

The Night is cold once more.

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