Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program "The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: UK English spelling and first-person narrative
Feedback: If you feel generous enough to offer some feedback then send a note to Pollyanna
The room is too hot.
The covers are already thrown back, so I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a moment savouring the brief coolness where my skin no longer touches the bed.
I feel the blood pulsing in my fingers - bloating them and I spread my hands, stretching the joints, trying to thin the flow. Again a brief respite, consumed all too soon by the greedy heat.
But from my thoughts of you, there is no respite. During the night there are no distractions, no words, no other people, nothing to divert the eye and the mind behind it.
I stand and walk to the window, looking out at the lights of other sleepless people, separated from me by more than glass. The lies in their lives are all mere childish deceits. They do not exist in a place of betrayal and subterfuge where the truth has been changed so many times that I wonder if I would even recognise it.
I turn and walk towards the mirror. I am surprised that my reflection is clear and straight. I expected to see myself flattened and distorted as if in a carnival side-show. But in the dim light I appear ... commonplace. Is that what you see when you look at me?
When I see you, I see all that is beautiful in my life. It is not just that you are beautiful to my eyes, but you are exquisite to my soul. I see your faults, as you surely see mine, but they are you and share in your glamour.
I see you again in the meadow. I used to wonder 'Why a meadow?' until I realised it was a place we had never been together so there was no chance of reality shattering the dream.
The sun is shining from a blue sky, and the bright reds and yellows of unnamed flowers are vivid among the green - so different from the black swelter and grey shades of this room.
You're lying on the grass and laughing at some foolishness of mine, and I'm laughing too.
How rich it would be to be foolish. To be able to laugh without cruelty. Not to have that knowledge that touches all our smiles with cynicism, that twists our lips from the true.
We are lying close by each other, I could lean forward and kiss you. But that is another dream, there is light in that dream also, and movement and passion, yet tonight I want the chaste meadow. A place of peace and growing things, where I can rest a while by your side and grow strong.
I close my eyes and let the colour and light heal the wounds in my dark places. Your laughter strengthens me until I can stand by myself again. I am armoured by the illusion of your presence.
I open my eyes, look into the mirror and meet my own regard. Then I turn and walk to the bed. I lie down and pull up a single sheet grown chill in my absence.
It lies against my skin like the benediction of your understanding, the only touch I need this night.
Perhaps the only touch I will know until I am done from battle.
THE END
Inspired by 'To Lucasta going to the warres' by Colonel Richard Lovelace (1618-1657) and particularly the last two lines :
"I could not love thee (Deare) so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more."