Day And Night

She watched his smile fade, the corners of his mouth dropped slightly and the song he had just sung faded into a melodic memory. His face softened and she watched the wind blow away the last remains of his overt delight. She watched the rainbow of his mouth turn from a Technicolor pageant of beet red and hazard-cone orange into a muted palette mixed with white acrylic. She watched the fading glory, the spiral of rainbow dye that moved into oblivion with each second that passed. How long had she watched his lips? The endless transforming of emotion that played with the muscles of his face.
She sat on the bed, an orbit of delight herself, beaming in white and blue as she sat before him. She was smooth and nearly naked in her white and pink lace panties. She sat crossed legged, slightly embarrassed by her lack of graceful ballerina posture, yet unable to will her muscles and bones into spinal alignment. She watched him and the vain angel on her side tugged at her thoughts, “Sit straight! You look horrible!” And although the same thought entered over and over, it blew through her mind like a fluffy cloud. When his smile at last faded like a fiery sun, she brought her eyes to his, feeling the endless river of power that seeped from him. She sucked him out, pulling him inside by concentrating on the back splash of energy. The soft bed accepted her weight and she fell deeper into it. She sat there.
How long had she been there, watching his smile fade into a soft mouth that bore no particular expression, but was rather a statement in contentment? She had nowhere else to go, rather, she had no where else she wanted to go and this bed, this small room stuffed with books and made smaller and warmer by a heater that whirred throughout the night and continued with the day was the whole of the universe. His eyes and mouth, they were every star, every undiscovered sun.
Outside, she felt that it was light. She felt the bright whiteness of a cloud covered sky infiltrate the room with its sense of urgency. Light being the indicator of action, the time to drive and work and run errands. But she sat and held his stare and practiced moving against the rules of nature. Light was to see his smile. Light was to see the contour of his flesh expand from thigh to chest. Light was needed for holding his gaze.
When the dark would come, perhaps then she would rise and take the memories of his smile with her. She would dress, covering her white panties and sculpting her breasts into more recognizable shapes. She would find her shoes and pull up her mismatched socks and head out into the night. She would drive, up the hills that overlooked a sleeping city and insistent street lamps buzzing for the attention of moths. She would drive in silence, holding the scent of him on her mouth until she found the small house
tucked into the curve of the street. She would wait in her car, listening for the sounds of other approaching cars and then, after determining she was all alone under a cloud-covered black night, she would exit and walk across the street, entering her small room. She was then ready for a new round of work to begin.