The air pressed against her skin. A thousand invisible paper cuts of equally invisible ice.
A subtle shift from a light breeze did not offset the tiny tears to her flesh. Her steps were quick, but not quick enough to make much progress, as she wore far too little for the season. Just a sequined slip and thigh-high boots paired with a jacket meant for fashion not warmth, accentuating the molecular hairs that pressed up from her skin in protest of the winter air. And soft ivory skin too exposed to the moonlight surfaced across the gentle curvature of collarbone which slipped out of the satin jacket with each step.
She left her house with no particular destination in mind. Only a mission to not stay in the same spot for long. To let the moonlight drench her with its luster as she traced the paths she walked again and again, albeit not so frequently on such a cold winter’s night.
But this escape was purposeless as much as it was purposeful. She hoped that the chilled slices to her flesh would turn off all other sensations. That somehow—somehow by feeling everything at once, ripping in to her, all would fall into place.
Answers would be provided without questions asked.
The air would force her surrender,
and she would allow it that surrender with its silvery silence.
Through the six slits between branches boasting above her head she noticed a star slipping through a sea of soft clouds, illuminated by its simple force, yet mostly forgotten by breadth of the night sky’s endless navy.
She closed her eye tight and imagined the starlight dancing on her skin. Down her neck, to the nape of it, slowly down her spine, to the back of her right thigh, and down to her ankle, then exploding out of her toes towards the forever ahead of her. And again imagined its journey down the left of her, until it left again, bouncing off back to the universe, already forgetting its flare through her flesh.
Defeated by the stars and the slick surrounding she slipped back to doors which enclosed the perfect everything. Soft sheets, warm bed, hot shower, cooked meals, a furnace producing heat on demand. She crawled into bed, tucked herself in tight, and let dreams find her again, through every heartbeat of night’s pulse, until a piercing sun jolted her weary disposition into a new day’s reality, always awaiting the night.
life with interest 