The Firefly

48°

***

He could feel the beating of her heart.

So small and pure it was tender, yet enviably tenacious.

He knew who of the two was the more resolute; she was a span above him.

The girl moved in her sleep, her face gently caressing his chest.

Jake felt shaken by a familiar sensation.

Like when her thin, delicate fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt or carefully arranged his hair.

In those moments his view of life seemed to deflect imperceptibly from the track he had long since taken.

His heart lightened at those small gestures.

The darkness seemed to be shaken by a small glow, like a distant light.

As by a tiny, average firefly.

A being as microscopic as it was insignificant, but capable of spreading serenity even on the most tremendously sultry summer nights.

Able to enchant one's soul by standing out in the exaggerated, fierce darkness.

He had never given these small details any thought, as if everything had been taken for granted and perhaps his torment had been a lesson from life itself.

If so, he liked to think how fate had reserved at least one firefly for him.

A bringer of hope.

She was The Firefly.

And although she had chosen someone else, although he, overwhelmed by the grip of jealousy, had failed to keep his mouth shut by revealing everything to her, his feelings for her would not fade.

They would never fade.

For four years a little voice in his head had been speaking to him.

What was the point of continuing to live in that condition? The little voice asked him.

He was useless without sight, barely able to take a few steps without tripping over his own feet.

Often when he was alone he would close and reopen his eyes fiercely, hoping like a child that at the nth blink the colors would return.

He would pass his hand in front of his face, praying to catch at least a glimpse of movement.

But that distressing darkness was the only reality.

Over time he had closed in more and more, refusing even the food that was offered to him.

When in the night he felt his stomach clench in a painful grip he smiled, happy to punish that side of him that had reduced him like that.

He knew his love was not reciprocated and it hurt, a lot.

But she had promised him she would not abandon him, and he believed her.

God, if he believed her.

He trusted her.

He would have sold his soul for her.

But every time he was left alone, thoughts assailed him.

To think that there was someone else in her life destroyed him.

He clenched his fists as that thought crossed his mind.

He felt his veins close up and his throat dry up as the disease of jealousy spread through his arteries and the doubt that sooner or later she too would leave him behind began to manifest in him.