Lies took the elevator.
Truth took the stairs.
Both arrived and met Revelation.
Jane killed a family in a car accident. Depressive and accustomed to self-harm, she decides to go back to where her life toppled upside down. Jane doesn't know what to e...
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Is this a new world or my rebirth?
That's how I feel when I open my eyes and lay pondering, it was unexpected, but I would willingly sign up for more surprises of this genre. Though I don't know Jane's thoughts yet about what happened, I know I desired her more than anyone else in the last few years.
I've been with quite a few women since Soo Ae, but I clearly distinguish what I did with Jane and the rest. I don't know how it works for women, but for guys, I mean for me, the line is drawn in yellow tape.
The one-night stands I had were like missions where goals, performance, and achievements were awaited on both sides. Sometimes, each party searched to satisfy themselves without thinking of the other; it was a very egoistic process. Sex with those women was me seeking psychical thrills with no feelings attached, but with Jane, the right word would be making love.
That's a different story, one where all the emotions you forbid yourself to have when you have everyday sex spill in every cavity of your body. Your motivations are not goal-oriented, but you desire to show how passionate your love is. Tonight more than ever, I wished to make one with Jane's mind, body, and soul. And when I reached my blank space where I usually stand alone, Jane was there with me.
Small details come back to me, like the surprise I had when I discovered her silk and lace ensemble. Jane's daily casual wear doesn't leave space for me to imagine that. The dim light from my desk prevented me from admiring it.
Jane's natural shyness transpired with every hesitated gesture, lowering her eyes as I unclipped her bra.
Heat invades my cheeks, and I shiver at the thought as the echoes of the sensations ripple all over me. I turn to face Jane; she isn't there.
I get up and scan the room desperately; it's still dark. The clock on my wall says it's 3:15 AM.
"Jane."
No answer.
I look at the door; her shoes are gone, my gaze sweeps the room. Once more, something is off. No, something isn't the way it should be.
I walk to the desk; all my notebooks are open.
The envelopes.
They're emptied of their contents, which I pick up from the floor.
As I arrange them, I notice what appears to be a letter; it wasn't there before because it's in Jane's sloppy handwriting. My lips curve in a smile, she writes in hieroglyphs, I grab the paper, and my enthusiasm diminishes as I start to read and discover something my mind refuses to register.
