On insanity

“He walked into the room, and she felt it in her skin.

It was the same every time – even when her eyes refused to move and acknowledge the fact that he was there, it was like a sixth sense. It was the crawling of the skin and the sudden awareness that overcame her mind; the current that shot through her body begging her to look aside and meet his eyes. But obeying was the same as giving in, so she kept her eyes focused on the wall across the room.

The door behind him locked with a click, and the silence in the room became palpable. She could’ve sworn that her unconstrained heartbeats were loud enough to be heard from across the room, but he didn’t show. He never did – except for his eyes.

When he became too close for comfort her eyes shot to him as if they had no other choice, like magnets attracted to metal. His stare always burned with a fire so fierce she was both scared to give into the flames and electrified to touch them, to feel the same heat she burned with constantly whenever he was involved. The laws of physics had nothing on their attraction, she thought. Nothing could explain the way the rest of the world went numb when his look was focused on her face.

She always anticipated his touch. She questioned when the last one would be the last, when the one happened that should be kept in her memory forever, so she treated every single one as such. In those brief moments where their eyes first connected a whole world could be fit in between, distances as far as opposite galaxies amounting to nothing next to what was said and what wasn’t. It was insanity and bliss, fate and doubt, the way he made her feel.

Her lips parted, anticipating the words that would come out. But no sound was released. Her eyelashes batted questions, and her look sought his, always wondering, always anticipating, always holding up the tension until the moment when stress was released and there were no more questions and white noise.

When his lips touched hers, it was soft at first. A slight brush, that of a painter deciding how to depict the fabulous sunrise. Tentative and willing. The graze paused long enough for eyes to reopen, research; but no more knowledge was needed, as they already knew what there was to know. Now there was only more left to explore. To discover. Uncover.

His soft lips touched hers again more firmly, as if communicating his purpose; his strong hands traced the road from her shoulders to her hands, leaving a feverish trail behind and making the whole room feel as if it was a furnace.

No amount of space would ever be enough.”

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