What is he thinking, when his face turns like that? Does he not understand how I notice the thin line that develops between his brows as he contracts them so slightly? Nor the way his shoulders stiffen, or the small vein behind his left ear that pulsates as it thickens. How his eye lids tighten by the smallest of fractions, and flutter not nearly as often. Why do his lips stay so straight? Why do they not turn to his sultry smile? Nor bow to a sorrow frown? His breath is too even, too rhythmic, like when one sleeps. But his eyes are open and he is not asleep. In a dream, maybe, but asleep he is not. His eyes are open, his eyes. Oh how his eyes are empty! They are that of the freshly deceased, as if one has taken their last breath and the life leaves their eyes as it leaves their lungs. But he is not dead, not in that way. When he thinks like that, he is alive, but not here. No. He is most certainly not here.
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billetdoux posted this
