I sat for hours in front of that window. A rainy afternoon. Bleak sky. Heavy rain. Heavy like my body was that day. Nothing to do. Nothing came to mind. But I wanted to move. I wanted to breathe. I wanted to tense.
The paper-thin walls heeded my cry. They allowed me to hear him. The shrick of the key thrusting into the lock. The click of the knob and the close of the door.
He’s home! My body said. I don’t know his name. I don’t know what makes him leave in the morning and makes him come back in the afternoon. I know that he’s in tune to me.
I jump up and take a look in the mirror. My hair a mane of tight red curls and a body in old faded jeans adorned with rips and holes and a gray tank that’s seen better years.
Without a second thought to shoes, I tip toed through the apartment and stopped when I heard my door open. He knew I kept it unlocked. He came in, long and loose locks embellished with raindrops. He took off his coat but his boots were still wet, leaving clear prints on the wood floor.
The blue tint of the room. The dark abyss of his eyes and his easy smile. I tilted my head back towards the bedroom.
He followed me there and didn’t waste a moment. Starting with my lips, his kiss them, outlined my neck, took a breast and treated both with eager attention, and motivated himself to kiss my stomach.
He took no time to lay me out on the chaise to button the soft denim that separated him from what he had yesterday. The rain came a harder then, matching the phenomenon going between my legs.
Sweet sweet parting. Sweeter kisses in indirect places. My eyes saw bliss through the dark of my eyelids.
My tiny square nails dug trenches into his back, taking place of the scream I wanted to release but didn’t. I didn’t want to let go of this moment. His movement slow and deep, and an affectionate crawl over me. Riding his bliss, navigating through me letting me know that he was there for me.
His breaths get heavier, his pants pulling in the baritone of his voice. No, you can’t be close. I open just a little wider now, just to slow him down so I can catch up. After a while, I tighten up, ready to allow those few moments before the soft sighs, and quiet kisses take over.
After the bliss washes over us, making us sleepy and heavy, we sleep for a couple of minutes, lazily touching each other, and giggling at our silence.
We share one more kiss before he stands up, puts on his jeans, reties his boots, shakes the lethargy from his locks and sits down next to me. We make out for a minute and stop, faces close wanting to say something. Anything, more than what the last hour said. What is your name? Is a start. But I leave the question stuck in my throat. I already know. But it hasn’t been created by any language.
I listen for his exit with the click of door and the footsteps into his apartment. I close my eyes and breath in the scents that were created in the last hour and look out that window to see a crowd emerge from the subway station.
I rush into the shower and regretfully wash away the afternoon.
The door clicks and footsteps come through the apartment. The curtain pulls back and there my baby stands.
"You forgot to lock the door again, J."
