Mutating Woman, Mutating Man
Death fell hard upon her. Two months after losing her love, she did not recognize her body, a complete stranger. She used to make love feeling their combined perfumes, the delicious, wonderful, spectacular mixtures of her and his scents. Now, I do not smell like me or like you, my love! I do not have our perfume in my skin as it used to be! The daily requests of physical tenderness towards her love had become unbearable. I miss kissing him as I used to! I want to feel his perfume and savor his taste as I used to do! I want to keep making love as we used to do! However, he died sixty-five days ago.
Her body is now speaking, sending her messages, trying to guide itself independently of her will. For days, her body has been requesting things that she can hardly provide by wrapping herself on his sweated shirts trying to make love with pieces of clothing, crying and terminating the attempt as soon as she begins. The bed linen has not been changed after sixty-five days yet, because it has their sweat, their smells and their stains still on it. But it is dirty and she will have to find courage to change it. Courage. Courage is the word.
She can no longer endure the remembrances of them. I want us making love as we used to, always in a different way, always with passion, always with new words of lust and love!
She cannot bear incessantly having red swollen eyes anymore! But tears seem always to keep flowing. Memory. Memory is torture.
Her body needs to survive in love. Her mind is a chaos. Her heart beats with a hole half its size. Her body is desperately longing for whom she has just lost. Imagination. Imagination is hope.
Two more months would elapse until she found courage to change the now brownish bed linen that once was light-colored patterned with flowers. While she took the extremely dirty sheets to be washed, she realized herself somewhat different.
Pain changed her to the core, to the DNA.
He never bothered trying to establish when his abilities started to appear. After all, there was always the chance that he might be wrong. But whenever he got to know the persons whose minds he decrypted, he proved that his decryption ability was quite precise. He was, indeed, capable of reading thoughts.
He was used to watch people, to observe them. As he grew up, he paid attention to the words of those persons close to him too. And he discovered that, many times, the words were way different from the actions.