The blankets were piled around, swaddling her near nudity for warmth and comfort. She was sleeping soundlessly like a chinchilla in the soft sulci of comforters while the dull morning light punctured though tiny cord holes in the mini blinds slats. She was crumpled in the folds near the wall. There was a grand distance between her and the other side of the bed, which was positioned in the corner nearest the crossbars of transparent glass. Unlike the other dorm members this countered the normative facets for existence to those who used the interior wall for their bed and the window wall for their graffiti scarred desk. The otherwise typical feng-shui allowed occupants the predisposition to stare blankly outside and observe the business in the street, shapes in trees or the blank stupid sky when the occasional low gray cloud would lugubriously happen by on a slow drift out to the ocean and poof! Away it went with the wind current.
The city atmosphere was nearly always overcast and shadowed by a haze. It was a mystery that she desired the window placement over the typical ensemble for her sleep. Though it has been said, she is a firm believer that people are never asleep and can learn the most from osmosis. Perhaps if she’d relax and close her eyes while next to a gulf stream she would not be so foggy. She would not feel the urge to day dream from its sill when concentrating on her multitudes of studies. Besides, she had a montage of photos and cut outs from magazines, napkins with scribble, streamers and a nice collection of other similar flare on the wall behind her monitor.
She could stare at the wall and imagine herself in the places of the snap shots; on sidewalks around New York strolling beside and clinging to a long haired faceless man or swaying and swinging on a beach while the ominous clouds threaten rain in the distance or hanging over the edge of a sky tower penthouse dangling a laced monogrammed kerchief or tangled in the silk threads of some photographers imagination modeling, among other things, a martini glass with three pepper stuffed olives on a club sandwich sword spear. She had more in her cellophane scrap book mural than the livid streets beyond the glass pane could muster on a good day. Besides, she knew who lived in her building and could predict who would pass based on their routine schedules. It had gotten to where she knew everyone’s itinerary, so it was no surprise which direction they would come from according to which department they subscribed.
The half moon form on the mattress rotated slightly sideways and a thin pale leg protruded from a slit in the floral mod-podged motif. She was still facing the wall and the popliteal area behind her patella was like a reclusive cove between the tendons, that I would have crawled inside to sleep but couldn't. For one thing, I was too damn big and for the second, I was writing this all down and couldn't be moved away from my observations to bother. I followed her contours as she twisted more to lie on her stomach. My eyes became my fingertips and they traced her thigh to her panty line. Next I imagined myself as one of the dancing bears bent around her butt cheek until they came to life. I watched as his face folded in half and began a pirouette towards her sphincter. Keeping her trunk stable she opened her torso outward, away from the wall, twisting back to stare up at the ceiling. Her form made an S to the micro camera of the smoke detector. As she brought her arm over her head the cascading ribs leading down to her pink nipple bud ratcheted the remaining blanket away. Her lips were red and more plump than usual from being covered; the heavy moisture in her breath had been retained by the cloth covering. She made Gerber faces and kept her eye lids taught, yet shut slightly as if she was just clinging to the final memories of the dream which she had been having.
Her mouth opened but not in a yawn. She was speaking clearly as if she had been awake for some time in her mind but her body lagged behind. “Are you making the bears dance into my anus again or did the bleary wall inspire another requiem for a capital tale of romance without emotional love?”
“Both.” I responded. “It is the fallacy of the Teddy that fails to excite the imagination in our stock markets.”
“Bravo.” she claimed as a hand swept over the tresses in her face, fingers pulling temples back and elongating her eyes in a gesture I had seen my own mother do when she considered again an operational age defier.
Ramona though, was just waking up. She smiled bright and released her head turning it slightly in my direction but keeping her eyes shut. “Perhaps it is the lack of Teddies in the trade which stilts the company member growth.”
“Shame on you for eliciting pernicious thoughts on those fellows who adorn your habitat.”
At this her lids separated exposing her green iris to the melancholy of the room. “Shame on the establishment not the cell. Had it been any other occupant this building would still stand on its foundation.”
I was jotting down something about the fractals of light in her eyes. “Ah but natural beauty requires minimal cover up so make me blush.”
She smiled again and I noticed the crow’s flight around her orbiculars, and then took in her radiance. She sat up and hugged her knees hiding her globes with her hair as she rested the side of her face on the apex of her caps. “So when you are finished with that sentence will you return to me unmarked and for the better?”
“That is providing I ever finish the sentence.”
“Oh I'm sure it will be over before you even notice.”
There was a pause while I repeated the movement of my pen tip in the shape of a lowercase cursive e and then scribbled to the end of the page.
“The epic is through now huh?”
I bit on my lower lip and considered the one foot squared tiles on her floor. “I suppose, by the time you are finished here.”
She pulled her head up then her hair back. The blankets fell from her chest once more and I gave a half smile like a shrug of my lips in regard to her nipple. “Perhaps, if I am ever finished. Hear?” Her last word, the homonym to mine, hung in the air as a quip and a question.
“I suppose I deserve this?” I looked up as she was pulling a black hair tie from her wrist onto a pony tail to hold it in place.
“Well what if I don't want to wait for you that long?”
“Do you have a choice?”
“Choices are placed for those who do not know what it is they want. I know what I want but I can always change my mind.”
“Let's not talk about minds. Too much effort is wasted on the improvements of such that nothing is ever enjoyed less than before and dwarfs the magnificence of the something we have.”
She returned her head to her knees and watched me. Her eyes were still alert but foggy with the remnants of sleep.
We sat like this for nearly ten minutes without saying anything. In that time I traced the arch of her bare back and rib cage with my eyes down to the dimpled plump of her rump and back up again. I ran my hand over her hair and tugged on her pony tail removing the tie and scrunching the follicles in my grasp without ever touching her. Her eyes were blank as if in reverie. Out of focus, I embraced her form and laid her back to her pillow that crackled its plastic cover like an old man’s spine. My doubled fingers dipped down beneath her cloth and danced the bears in single file along her thighs pausing in the tendon cave of the popliteal. Over her ankles and feet the otherwise fiercely fuzzy animals marched over her heals and dove from the length of her toes then fell to the floor where they stayed. I caressed her body fuzz. It had grown some, I imagined, since I had last touched her there, since she had been here.
“Are you well prepared for this sentence?” She broke our silence with my fatal question or an inquiry on my fate.
“This is going to be the easiest yet to write.” I felt my own homonym was aptly poignant.
“And you will return to me unscathed and for the better?”
“As well as yourself.” I reposed.
“No. I want you better.”
“Than better I shall be. How about a waltz before I have to go?”
“There is no music silly.”
“You mean you can't hear that melody?”
“Even if I did I wouldn't admit to anything. I would just let it play as our symphonic score.”
“Good dear. I am sorry if I tried to convince you otherwise.”
“And I am sorry I led you to misconduct the orchestra.”
“Clever girl. We were only clever.”
“Perhaps but we will see when we read each other’s letters. Do include a return address.”
“I could send you the photo.”
“I don't want a mug shot just, your mug.”
I checked my watch and scribbled some more words on a page. I stood to leave and moved closer to nuzzle my nose against hers. She pierced her lips and narrowed her eyes. As I bent down her hand came up fast, thwacking when it connected to my cheek.
“And don't you ever, ever try that again on anyone.”
I smiled a half smile from the other side of my mouth and spun on my heels towards the door. As I reached for the call button I partially turned toward her exposing my chest where I caged my heart.
“If you hear of me doing anything of the sorts just push the orderly button.” Then I smiled a broad teeth sarcastic grin, pretended to tip a hat and when the door chinked its metal fix, I strode through the frame and away from the words I had left behind.
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