3 de febrero de 2011

Do you want to give me a present?

She stepped closer to him
Her breath wafted onto his face and the city of light in her eyes 
was extinguished when she stepped into his shadow. 
Her pupils were two marble-sized holes in her head.
She's so sad. So very, very sad.
"No, I never get any presents. 
Oskar nodded stiffly. The world around him had ceased to exist. 
Only those two holes, a breath away. 

Their breaths mingled and rose, dissipated.

"Do you want to give me a present?"
His voice was not even a whisper. 
Only an exhalation. The girl's face was close. 

His gaze was drawn to her butter-knife cheek.
That was why he didn't see her eyes change, 
how they narrowed, took on another expression. He didn't see how her upper lip drew back 
and revealed a pair of small, dirty-white fangs. 
He only saw her cheek and while her mouth was nearing 
his throat he drew up his hand and stroked her face.
The girl froze for a moment, then pulled back.
 Her eyes resumed their former shape; the city of light was back.
"What did you do that for?"
"I'm sorry . . . I--"
"What did you do?"
"I . . ."
Oskar looked at his hand, still holding the Cube, 
and relaxed his grip on it. He had been squeezing it so hard 
the corners had left deep imprints in his hand. 
He stretched it out toward her.

"Do you want it? You can have it."
She slowly shook her head.
"No. It's yours."
What's...your name.


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