...in the first place, she said
to the window, the violet desert
night, her flushed face mirrored
back in a reflection, where their
eyes met. And, in the second,
you don’t even know who I am.
A swell of annoyance, or maybe
it was boredom, lifted her off
her feet for a few seconds, and
suddenly, she could see herself
from outside, from out there where
stormclouds of stars piled up on
the horizon, where a hot wind
sipped sweat from your skin so
quickly you never felt a prickle,
where that silvery road unwound
like a mystery, northward, over
a series of rocky hills.
Outside, where the scrub brush
met the drive, two glowing green
eyes appeared like magic. They
seemed to be looking directly at
her, shimmering in rising waves of
ambient heat. She gazed back,
momentarily unaware of the man
waiting for her to further explain
herself. The green eyes blinked
once, twice—then vanished as
she stepped out into the evening
closing the door firmly behind her.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: fancycrave1/Pixabay
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