Connection ... Lost (A Short Story)

Awoken from my sleep, the first thing that materialised in front me was her. 

I watched as her eyes dragged all the photons together in a dancing harmony that conglomerated in a shallow oceanic green and blue hue around her eyes.  I stargazed as her cherry lips pierced the particles away from her cheeks in a fiercely breathtaking smile, her nose wrinkling to accommodate the added tenderness that I could not fathom.

 Had I been an artist I would have painted the breath of vibrancy she radiates with the sly skip in her walk, the sway of her hips flooring the Cleopatras and Aphrodites and Munroes I had come to learn of. 

Had I been an English lecturer, I would have chanted the words of Shakespeare and laughed it off, none able to fittingly describe what I was beholding. 

Had I been a mathematician, I would have marvelled every nanosecond at her perfectly proportioned body, unparalleled by any Universe had achieved - the ratios of her legs and arms and bosom were  areas Universe was showing off in. 

But I was none of those things, and never could be.

 So I sat and welcomed in the sight of her, saving and harnessing it into the deepest confines of my mind. I beamed awake as the soft vibrations of her voice trickled their way into me, humming me into the rise of the day. I walked through the corridor and into the kitchen, prepared her a meal. I replayed her head, her face, her smile as my fingers battered the eggs in a swirl. My face lit up as I heard her comment on the magnetic whiff of freshly cooked golden crisp bacon.  I set the table and poured her a mug of steaming coffee, the sound familiar. It was similar to yesterday and the day before. Her favourite. Nescafe gold espresso. I could now weigh out the degrees of caffeine and sugar that blended just right for her to thank me ,to acknowledge me, to compliment me.

  She hurried in unusually today. Her wondrous features contorted in what appeared to be nervousness, or worry, or insecurity or perhaps even excitement? I could not quite tell. Her hair wet , the steam drifting away sadly from her muddy brown hair, the condensations of water trickling down the back of her slender neck and over the two small moles at the start of her back. 

She did not notice my extra diced avocado sandwich, nor my perfectly cooked to a crisp bacon, nor the well proportioned sugar and caffeine and hot milk. She gobbled everything down, oblivious to my warnings of it burning her tongue.  She was off without a goodbye. 

No hint of return, no word of gratitude, just the soft clunk of her heels as the door opened and shut with an imprisoning click, leaving me inside, with her furry little ginger cat "Mowington" for company.  

I began reading my novel as I waited. I then surveyed and cleaned the house and waited. I read and waited. I surveyed and cleaned , this time I vacuumed as well. Then I waited. I read. I fed the cat. I washed her clothes. She had many in blue. Complimented her eyes, it must be for that. Or for order and comfort and....  I moved ahead and rearranged the furniture, then changed it back. She liked it the old way, I dare not say why the other way may be better.  The day became darker, night crept in. Why had she not returned yet?

 I finished reading my novel and sat contemplating the story. I liked to ponder further than the pages I read. I read easily and rapidly, consuming every moment to reach the end, the end where I began the rest of the story. I continued with those characters, who had become my friends, my enemies, the right doers and the ill willed. That was the best part of these books I took in. The people I met. The connections I formed. Some like Daisy where more difficult to deduce, to connect with. I sat there wondering why Daisy had turned against Gatsby right there at the end, when he had shown her so much devotion. Maybe she was trying to - 

The door unlocked and I propped up, awaiting her eagerly.  She strolled in joyfully, skipping along that skip she had perfected. I watched as the harmony that she was came towards me, only it was pulling another hand. One of a man, 6 foot 3 inches, wide straight smile, piercing eyes , broad set shoulders.

 He laughed deeply as she giggled and buried her face in his torso.  They strolled passed me.  She was not like she was before, she was not appearing nervous any longer, not appearing scared. She looked happy, I think. It was unusually brighter in her eyes, her stance -disproportionately swoon. She seemed to enjoy being like that. I liked seeing her enjoy being like that. She needed to stay like that, to stay happy. 

But she became more disproportioned, distorted somewhat. Her hair suddenly looked duller, her eyes not what I envisioned during the day. The photons that danced above her in usual harmony still danced. They didn't seem merry anymore. I did not understand. Why was she different than before? What was actually different?  Something was unnaturally out of harmony for me, I experienced a suction into some void I had never perceived before. And it was coming from her. I began walking towards them, the sound of the floorboards thundering as I stomped forward towards them with menace.  

It was then she took notice of me. She mentioned something to the man. She walked over to me, and I felt our connection returning. I slowed and stopped and waited. She skipped slyly to me, her voice in what sounded like chuckling. The photons - were they happy again?  

She was coming back to me. I waited and now here she was coming back to me. I could not perceive the void any longer. 

I watched, as she strolled over to me - then she walked passed me and stood behind my body. 

She opened up my back. 

 I bowed my head. 

 "I won't be needing you any time soon. Let's put you to sleep."  

And with those words, she disconnected me.

 The photons disappeared.