Friday, March 16, 2012

Carotid Artery: I Came To Hold You

The Story
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Carotid Artery: I Came To Hold You
Mar 16th 2012, 18:42

This is an unfinished story. I think I threw out the books for this that hand the ending, but I can pretty much tell you that it involves the reveal that he's a stalker. Enjoy:

He presses his hand against the frame of the door and gently guides it shut. It makes a satisfying click as it closes and when the deadbolt's affixed he hardly makes a sound. He is an expert of so many nights in the dark. He knows just how to move across the living room into the bedroom, silent like a shadow crossing the floor.

He takes his shoes off next, leaving them behind the door. He knows where everything is even in the pitch blackness. He travels his path, the sounds of her breathing waltzing out of the bedroom. Merrily, he marches in time with the rhythm of her dreams, in thorough the mouth and out through the nose.

She worked hard and sleeps heavy now. A retail job takes her morning. A security job cannibalizes her afternoons. Her evenings are given over to short hours of serene unconsciousness in a tiny boxy room.

It's this peace he fears to disturb, so slowly he moves, slowly he walks, and slowly he slips noiselessly into her bed.

He doesn't need to undress, a rare talent of his being able to find comfort anyway and anywhere. In this bed there are two goose-downs pillows, twins without symmetry. The right side pillow is pristine, all smooth lines and placid coolness. The left most, her side, is angry and bunched, jagged lines punched into oblivion, molded to the shape of her in profile. It is "her" pillow. Capital H.E.R. The way that the splotches on her nose are "her freckles" or the brand of citrus she shampoos with smells like "her hair".

God, his pillow is cold. It is like an ice bath against his cheek. His neck cranes down. He slips his shoulder under the edges and props the pillow under the back of his chin, holding it between his shoulder and crook of the neck. He gets settles in, sinking into a groove above the sheets. He corresponds to her shape, fitting himself like an adjunct piece of a puzzle board. Their forms become whole before his arms around her. He closes his eyes and feels her breath under him.

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