| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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I have no snacks to offer you. I haven’t had food here in the longest time, and I don’t anticipate a delivery any time soon. I’ve been starving, but I try to keep the hunger pains at bay by telling myself I can live without food. And now that you’re here I have nothing to offer you, and I worry that we will starve together. The door sits open behind you, and I wait, expecting you to turn and move through it. I never wanted you to come over in the first place, but now that you’re here I’m terrified you will leave too soon. When finally you do move, it’s only to close the door. From behind you I reach around and secure the chain. You take off your coat and sit down on the floor, tucking your legs underneath you. You smile up at me and hold out your arms. I sit next to you, curl up next to you, not believing for a moment that this is where I really am. The comfort and warmth you offer me are too good to be real, and I’m only waiting to wake up and find it’s all been a dream. You sense my disbelief and hold me tightly, ensuring that even if this is a dream, I will not escape so easily. You kiss the top of my head over and over and don’t complain when I nibble gently on your chin. Somewhere in your pocket is a file that details the number of freckles on my face, and the precise location of the birthmark on my back. Every word that comes out of my mouth is instantly recorded in this file, and added up to find the equation that tells you who I am. Where your skills in math may be lacking, you more than make up for it in the high art of compassion. Someday, I say to you, I will have chairs, and cookies, and candles, and I will be able to offer you more than just a bare room with cold walls. Someday I will give you a key to my door and let you come and go as you please. Someday, you answer back, we will work on getting that lock off of the door. And you smile so deeply, I cannot help but poke you playfully in your dimples. |
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