14th October 2012

KLARKE lie on his bed, looking outside at the beautiful painting-like scenery, embraced by the golden rays of the morning Sun.

It was truly miraculous, he thought, to find time to just lie there, without moving much. Feeling his warm breath while acknowledging the soft sunny embrace - much in contrast to the cold winds that struggled victoriously to enter the room aiming to challenge any entropy resistance. Everything else seemed to be a part of one game or another. Everyone was a player participating in a rat race – the result of which was silly moments of superficial satisfaction, too temporary to last even a microsecond on the Universal clock. But then, so was life, he accepted with a grin.
His last week at the University had been a strong evidence. It was strange, yet pretty self-explanatory, to see how people would sing songs of selflessness, while striving to push all others back when it came to their own race. This was a pseudo setup being worshiped since ages not recorded by human history, but which continued to infect the basic driving gears of our subconscious existence inside mortal structures of flesh and blood.
A hand gently moved over him, like being humbly jealous of the thoughts that occupied his mind. He glanced towards the delicate fingers – which seemed to draw random shapes on his bare chest. He remembered this illogical addiction of his - with how childishly possessive Christine would suddenly be for him at times. Earlier anomalies faded into nothingness, and he was wearing a smile gifted by the thoughts of the delicate figure lying on his side.
Mimicking legs using two of his fingers, he started a walk from her finger-tips, passing by her shoulders and neck, finally stopping on her lips, where his fingers skated over the crimson reddish shade. Christine, still in sweet slumber, squeezed into his curvature like a little child, her head resting on his chest. He could smell the scent of her soft hair, as they brushed past his face. He held her close, while the warmth from her breath on his chest increased their intimacy even more. He locked his fingers in hers, and kissed softly on her neck. She chuckled from the tickling, still half-asleep. She was like a snow-white charcoal sketch of his – just a lot more real. With his thumb, he traced the corners of her lips, like trying to smoothen the redness which seemed to increase more and more as she blushed. As he kissed on her forehead, she opened her eyes and closed them again, shrugging softly against the warmth of his body heat, intoxicated with pleasure. She looked at him – at the roughness of his young face, at those eyes which seemed to always say so much, feeling his strong arms hold her tight around her waist. She put her arms around his shoulders and bringing her face closer, gently stroke her nose against his. He gave a soft bite on the top of her nose, after which she giggled and hugged him tight. They stayed like that for a very long time.

K