To have but slumbered
I opened my eyes and beheld a face I knew from long ago. Like a dream, I’d mostly forgotten.
It was dark outside. In contrast, the lantern’s light was painful to look at.
So were his eyes, illuminated brightly against his pallid skin. He was more worn than I remembered; ashen, faded, lined. He’d been neglected.
“Darling,” he exclaimed, face blank with shock, clearly more startled than anything. After several blinks, he grabbed me by the shoulders and clutched me to his breast.
That’s when I realized I was alive: when the pain came. It was the bending of aged logs until they started to break; the stretching taught of crusty linens; the disturbing of artifacts preserved by time and not touched in eons.
It was dark outside. In contrast, the lantern’s light was painful to look at.
So were his eyes, illuminated brightly against his pallid skin. He was more worn than I remembered; ashen, faded, lined. He’d been neglected.
“Darling,” he exclaimed, face blank with shock, clearly more startled than anything. After several blinks, he grabbed me by the shoulders and clutched me to his breast.
That’s when I realized I was alive: when the pain came. It was the bending of aged logs until they started to break; the stretching taught of crusty linens; the disturbing of artifacts preserved by time and not touched in eons.
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