Love Letters To Nobody - 5. Chapter 5

A gentle breeze caressed your face as strands of chestnut lifted, revealing your cool blue eyes. I watched as the sunlight filter through the leaves, casting shadows over your warm golden skin. I held back my fingers.

The awakening of life hummed deeply in the mild air. Your gaze fell on me as I watched you watch me. The corners of your mouth lifted and a tingle shot straight through to my centre. Wrinkles spread in the corner of your eyes, your eyes glittering in the light.

Fishtail lines, I had once told you.

The memory stole a laugh from me.

Your eyebrow rose as it did when I mentioned them.

"Nothing," I dismissed.

That’s what they call them in my language.

Your gaze fell back onto the lines of fine print filling the pages with Jane Austen’s beautiful world. I watched as you immersed yourself in it, those orbs of blue travelling along the trail of words, jerking to the beginning of the next as they ran out of space.

A comfortable silence floated between us, as I watched the world around us awaken: in the buds of flowers and the scurrying of squirrels. I looked to your still features, your eyes still running along their lines. A moment passed. You looked up at me. A breeze ruffled Jane’s pages, and your hand sought to still them. There was no smile. Instead, your gaze sent gently encrypted messages to which I did not know the key.

The light aged, painting the crowded sky a myriad of pink, orange and purple. The breeze grew impatient, urging the sun to leave. Palm against palm, the friction brought me some comfort as I clasped my warmed hands together.

A loud snap, bones creaked, your hand extended from above.

"Let’s go," you offered.

I hoisted myself up. Your hand adjusted itself, lacing your fingers with mine. The howling wind pursued the fleeing sun to the corner of the sky, as the last of its light dimmed into darkness.

My hand was not cold, though.