Just One Moment Will Do

 I feel like I have been curled up inside this fucking closet for years. My hips ache, and my stomach feels like it's going to crawl out of my body, but I'll be damned if I am going to let my death grip on this knife loosen.

It has been silent out there for awhile - days? I can't tell. Have I slept? There is no variation on the light in this god forsaken hole so every day seamlessly blends into each lonely and terrifying night. I should open the door, just a crack, and peek into the horror of decomposing flesh and potential death. Nope, I'm gonna skip it for just a little longer, I don't think I have the strength to fight anything or anyone off of me again. I'll wait for the death wish to wash over me before I get adventurous.

What's that sound - footsteps? They are slow and deliberate so it must be alive, but that doesn't make it any less frightening. I can't tell how many feet, how many humans. Hopefully they will take what they need and be gone, there is nothing in this closet of interest to them unless they are hungry for flesh.

The boots stop outside the door, inches from the tip of my knife. I slowly move from sitting to crouching so I can leap or run if needed. Come on, adrenaline, I'm going to need you for this.

Suddenly the door flings open and I have a gun pointed at my head. I freeze like a squirrel and hold my knife at arms length while covering my eyes with my forearm. Jesus that light is bright, wake up eyes, let's hurry up and adjust before our face gets eaten off, shall we?

"You ok?" the voice asks in a gruff tone. The gun is still cocked and pointed between my eyes.

"Define 'OK'," I snark back while squinting. I still can't quite make out what I'm looking at. I know it's a man, and I know it has a gun, so we are getting somewhere.

"Stand up, we aren't gonna hurt you," he says, "slowly."

I lean against the wall for stability, my legs are like jello beneath my body. What I wouldn't give for an organic green drink, a yoga class and a hot shower, but those days are long gone. If I could just have a hot meal and a solid night of sleep I would feel human, but that may never happen again. Ever. For now I have to settle for simply being alive.

I step out of the closet and look around - there is no "we." It's just him. As my eyes adjust further I can see he is handsome, rugged, and wearing a gun holster like my brother used to wear as he sauntered off to work. A sheriff. My mind wants to feel comfort, but I can't allow it to. Things don't mean what they used to - guns and law enforcement are as reliable as strangers these days. I always think about what things would be like if Jimmy were still here watching out for me, but I can't go there now, I have a bullet inches from my face.

We stare at each other for what seems like eternity, and finally he lowers his pistol. With our eyes locked we size each other up like two statues frozen in time. I think his baby blues may be the first truly beautiful thing I have seen in a very long time. I find myself wanting to get lost in them, forget about all of this, and just float away. There is something intoxicating about this man, and I find myself relaxing a little too much.

He holsters his gun, but says nothing. My knife is at my side, firmly gripped, but with the tip pointed toward the floor. It's a stand off for no reason other than past experience - everything tells us both to keep our guard up, despite an intense pull to call it off.

It appears to be late afternoon, pre-sunset beams of light dancing through the curtains and boarded up windows. Those eyes come to life each time the breeze moves the fabric a bit and allows the sunshine in to meet them. He must know what I am thinking as the tension in the lines above his cheeks relax a bit, and he takes a deep breath. I'm too tired to fight being transparent, and this man is affecting me in ways I couldn't imagine.