Pretty as a Picture

duskcity 3 stories

Summary

She sits on my bed behind me, looking into the mirror. My apartment is the only place on the outskirts with a balcony that overlooks the sky and the landscape of the city. The sky hangs above like a wide fabric of some sort of god and the land stretched below it is full of colors and ellusives, like burning passions of a lifetime. “You’re beautiful, you know,” she says. “I don’t just mean looks.” The words feel tender as she says them, and I feel a lump form in my throat. I don’t say anything, I don’t think to say it back, I don’t think to do anything but stand. She turns to look ahead, leaving a silhouette of her profile, backgrounded by the sky. Her delicate hair falls over one shoulder, everything so black and featureless. The shape of her keeps morphing and she goes delicately to my bed, vanishing into the covers and pillows. No sound, no movement, no touch.