Starless Night
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We meet at Dunkin Donuts on Friday and sit having coffee while talking about Hayao Miyazaki’s films. I mention that Howl’s Moving Castle is my favorite movie and he tells me how much he adores Japanese animé.
We get in his car.
“Where do we go?” he asks.
“I dunno; you’re the one with the car. Where can we watch the movie privately?”
He flashes that brilliant smile that I am beginning to adore and starts the engine.
He drives to Marina, Dbayeh. How typical, I think to myself. But we have no other choice. We get out of the car, jump over the rocks where the waves are crashing, and find ourselves a spot where we can lie down and watch the movie.
He turns the DVD player on, and Tales from Earthsea starts playing.
The background music by the waves of the Mediterranean is of little annoyance to my viewing experience. We are so close to each other, and I am beginning to feel attracted to him. My eyes watch the animation on the screen, but my mind is focused on his breathing.
Halfway through the movie, the DVD player runs out of battery. I almost curse my luck before I look to his face and see him smiling as if nothing happened…
The moon is full, and the clouds forbid us its face.
The stars hide behind the flocks of white that swarm the skies.
We abandon the DVD player, and shoot our eyes upwards.
“Hey! That cloud looks like a dragon,” he starts suddenly.
“No, it looks like bunny. You see its ears, and that’s its tail over there,” I trace with my finger.
“Hmmm… Still looks like a dragon to me.”
“Tab what about that one?” He asks me.
“Hmm… I think it’s an arrow-pierced heart.”
There was awkward silence for a moment.
“Maybe,” he finally says. “I was going to say two elephants humping each other.”
We burst out laughing.
“That’s one way to ruin a moment.”
“Meeehh,” he says, “I try.”
I shoot my finger upwards, and point at a cloud that looks like lion’s mane.
He lifts his hand, grabs my finger gently, and lowers it.
His touch reminds me of an old dream, a long forgotten dream. It reminds me of being in my mother’s lap or my father’s embrace.
It reminds me of a lost childhood, an innocence to never be regained. I look at him awkwardly and he looks back; his lips forming into the smile that I would never in my life forget; a smile full of laughter and tears, a smile where life flashes as though eternities cease to exist, a smile that sends shivers down my spine, forcing my unconscious mind to relinquish to an ancient spell.
His head draws near, and I find myself unable to move. My eyes dart in all directions: his lips, his eyes, his nose, his every feature as though trying to imprint them in the back of my mind.
His lips touch mine, and I am swept into a parallel world. Whatever clichés I’d heard and read about kisses shatter to the floor. They were mistaken to have used words and letters to limit such moments.
My spirit is sent flying upwards along with his. We touch the clouds, and make them our field of innocence where we run into infinity leaving behind our bodies touching and sharing feelings limited by sensuality.
Our spirits become another being: two entities responsible for the order of the universe.
His lips are moist and most tender. They press against mine with such gentility that was sure to never let go.
When I think back on it, I know it lasted for a few seconds, but at the time, it surpassed the counting of days.
The lips break. And I remember to breathe.
“Wow,” he says.
“Yes… wow,” I say.
-Contributed by theRibz
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