Surreal and ephemeral

The sky was painted with shades of crimson and tangerine, indicative of a twilight that was fast approaching and threatening to engulf the shore with darkness. Quite oblivious to this stunning sunset were two shadows sitting in their deck. The last gasps of sunlight defining their presence as the only witnesses to the play of the rays and clouds. The rays seemed to soften the clouds and the horizon, the twilight colors muted and subdued in awe of the larger than life personas of the two shadows. Her head lay on his shoulder and perfectly fitted the gully between his head and shoulder and his head on top of hers. Like two pieces of jigsaw puzzles they perfectly fit each other. They held each other close lest the sea breeze occupies the space between their physical beings and forms a rift of separation.

Through troubled times, they would shoulder each other. Each giving thousand words of courage for every word spoken and another thousand words for those they did not. His face, wrinkled, each wrinkle a testimonial to the trials and tribulations at the hands of a harsh and unrelenting society. His face showing the pain of hiding his troubles from her. But often, to show that love shores up the fraility of the being and self, he would drop the facade of courage only between themselves. Emphasizing his vulnerability to the outside world but taking courage from her physical and emotional presence. No words yet spoken.

Their hands held together, fingers entwined, like a ball of wool, they formed an intricate pattern, its beginning at the root of their heart. Each gentle and responsive to touch, always on the verge of engulfing each other in flames of passion, yet never held tightly that would make them conscious of it. It would be hard to tell for the dispassionate that the shadows had any beginning or end. The air around them froze, keeping their distance, not wanting to intrude their presence.

He was looking out into the horizon. His gaze unfocussed, his mind not taking in anything other than the her presence beside him. He didnt have to look at her to know that her attention was focussed on him. She reached out to him. Her hand drawing an imaginary crease along the sides of his face, fingers taking the path of his features. Her forefinger coming to rest beneath his chin and the thumb on the chin, urging him to look up. He was resisting her silent request not wanting to move a muscle lest it shall alter the alignment of the cosmos and destroy the tender moment hanging in the balance.

But, he slowly gave in and did something that he would regret for a long time to come; he looked up and realized that she had no face.