In the quiet desert village of Dey, living among the sand dunes and mirages, existed an anomaly - me. I was different, born without the ability to read, write or keep long memories. My scientist father hailed my uniqueness as a miracle, but my life...
The evening dissolved into a sphere of dim light and quiet whispers, absorbed by the comforting confines of Wesa's room. Twin heartbeats murmured steady rhythms, our bodies lying on Wesa's cozy bed; shoulder to shoulder, breaths mingling. The air materialized a language of its own, the terrain in-between us a borderless path. Hands, infused with familiarity, traced unnoticed patterns over the shared sheet.
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"What are you thinking about?" Wesa broke into the silence, voice tired but afire with curiosity. His words tiptoed on the edges of my thoughts, intrigue draped in a moonlight whisper.
Drawn back from the corridors of contemplation, I exhaled a chuckle, the edges of my mouth twitching up in a half-smile. "That I'm probably never going to wear a dress again," I confessed, my voice dipping into the trance of vulnerability.
Cutout silhouettes of confusion rewrote Wesa's face. He elevated himself on his elbows, brow furrowed, dark locks descending onto his forehead like falling shadows. He repeated my words, dressing them in disbelief, "Why?!"
"Because... it's just not for me," I managed, avoiding his gaze to meet my own fingers, lost in the intricate landscape of the bedsheet. "I realized I don't feel comfortable in dressy frills."
His frustration, thick in the growing silence, started to recede into understanding. The stormy swirl in his onyx eyes gradually softening. His gaze collapsed into a quiet chuckle. "Can't really go hunting in a dress, can you?"
"Nope," I said, chuckling back. "And it's certainly not made for running away. From everything and everyone."
Silence swelled again in the little spaces left unfilled, the remnants echoing my admission. Unsure of my words, he ventured, his voice silhouetting doubt rather than judgment, "From... everyone?"
His attention, intense, shifted towards me. I could sense his onyx irises tracing contours of my face.
An amused smile sailed towards my lips. "Of course, that doesn't include you, Wes." I met his gaze head-on, plunging into the dark mystery that was Wesa's gaze. "Without you, any place I run to would still be empty."
His thick eyelashes fluttered, indecisive between surprise and delight. A knowing smile, cocooned in warmth, bloomed on his face. The dim light played on his features, easing the rigid lines and illuminating the painted constellations in his eyes.
I continued, my voice a quiet lullaby to his happiness. "Who will I ask for advice in critical moments? Whose bedtime stories will lull me to sleep? Who will ward off tipsy perverts at the parties from me?"
The dreamy trail of my voice morphed into a quiet laughter circling in his room. Trailing behind it, an effervescent joy ignited his face into a radiant grin. Wesa turned his face to the ceiling, a futile attempt to cloak his exuberance. But I saw it; lingering, bright. Hope glazed over the weariness crowding his eyes, far brighter than any sun ever could. I loved every speck of his gleaming joy.
