Bakers Touch

Maze In The Mirror

The easy and the difficult. She made it all make sense.

Scherherazades' love was a force to be reckoned with. Her stage name was Ebony Havoc. She had a body that lived up to the name,

Hair, Hips, Heart.

Harmony was her middle name, and that too was a well-chosen descriptor of her fate. She could tune herself to make a sound that would make even the most perplexing tinkering sound like an anointed battle cry from heaven.

Morgan felt the sun smile for a glimpse of time, and then it burned. That's the sun's reason for creation after all, to burn and give light where there is none. Not to be owned or possessed by any one entity, but shared in unison between all willing souls with a communicated and demonstrated unanimous agreement on a peaceful and long prosperous end. Scherherazades' question forced Morgan to think about the soul tying and dauntingly metamorphosing phases of life.

Marriage...? 

The sex of those that which united was a non-factor -but more urgently was her stance on the Idea of marriage itself. Wherein she stood at that time, it would have been impossible for two to become one. To think alike in mind and in goal? To love not the body but the soul, and the imminent asteroids, comets, and planets that those two stars burst forth. Such a heavy task for such a mind that has not healed from invaders, and marauders alike.

Back then she defined it as a sex driven suicide pact with mandatory yearly status updates.

She wondered if she had any right to think that way still.

As suddenly as she felt that spark between Scher and herself fade, another seemed to spring to life almost instantaneously. Scherherazade felt her stomach burn with a power she never thought shed survive holding it within.

Morgan felt so cold and alone that day, and that loneliness crept its way into Morgan like a stealthy imp. 

Morgan slowly finds her sense returning. 

Still seated before Owen on the Livingroom floor, but having drifted off into a disconnected space using only her eyes, her memory, and the gray ornate wallpaper just shy of Owens peripheral space. She was lucky to have picked a spot on the wall to dissociate to make it seem as though she was still paying attention to Owen.

She finds her voice, and makes a somber yet bright call to her friend.

"Owen?"

Owen turned back to Morgan as she began to ask,

"Would you be able to help me if I was going through something... but couldn't really talk about it?"

Her thumbs roll around each other in her lap, shoulders tense in a still fear. The gate was opened, the words had already spilled out. She braced for a Stonehenge in the event she need to mask. 

" Of course I would." Owen analyzes Morgan and her posture. 

Her slumped back and inward pointing shoulders alert him that something deeper is troubling her. Her eyes gloss over as she slowly looks at him. She battles in her mind if now is the time to talk about it, but the force field of embarrassment is simply too strong, and the width of its distance between her past and her future, keeps her from uttering a word.

"Morgan... do you want to talk about it? Is something happening to you that I should know about?"

"I just.."
 Its over.  The fire, the jolt that cracks the floor of the ocean to fight titans, has vanished. She reverts to a protective truth.