online - such a world of possibilities, of words not said and of thoughts transcending the seemingly endless and non-existent space of hope.
***
i am lying, almost spread eagle on the bed. i think of the corpse pose that i've found myself in during my yoga lessons. the air-conditioning does not hum. i wonder if we have we forgotten to place the keycard into the slot near the door. the ceiling seems newly painted in a fresh coat of white. cornices. i haven't noticed cornices in hotel rooms before. a clink - you've removed your watch and placed it on the table. your belt is next. there is something sensual about watching your side profile as you remove your belt. i cannot see myself reflected in the mirror. I can however, see the artwork placed above the bed - something that looks like a carpet with an intricate design, framed up. your coat is next, folded and tossed loosely on the back of the chair. for the first time i notice that it is grey. why grey and not black? your cuff links, then you tug at your shirt and walk towards the bed. you sit on the side of the bed and tug off your socks one by one. then i feel the weight of you next to me. my hand brushes against the cool sheet as it searches for yours while i look up towards the ceiling. at last i find your palm and i lay mine flat against yours. it feels cool against mine. i rub my thumb against yours to find the calloused part that i remember, but i fail. can callouses disappear without a trace in a year? i wonder.
so i found you, i ventured.
yes, he says.
ever the man of little words. i think as i raise myself up and gaze at him.
