Emanation

PART I

The whole day is quiet. As almost every day is, especially when he is around. You'd think that it would be louder having two people together, but with him it's always his eyes making the noise. The way he stares at me, like he's searching for new answers in me every time. His eyes always look different even though they're still his eyes. They still give me a feeling of protection and security, all while making me afraid and faint-hearted. He has the most interesting things to say, and most of it is just the way he looks at me. He is beautiful and witty. He is intouch with himself and the uniqueness of others, especially when he wants to get into you and the secrets of your soul and your person.

We're lying on the brown, washed-out sofa in our run down apartment living room. The air is filled with the smell of wet plywood, the previous cigarette smoke that River had just put out, and the strong smell of his patchouli shampoo. I shift over until I'm lying my head over his lap. I grab the edge of his hand-woven grey wool cardigan and press it against my face. I take in the scent of him, his own smell. Like nothing else, his smell is like his finger print, it's his own and no one else's. I look up at him and see him smiling, not big, but just enough to know he's analyzing me too. He's looking down at me, his little smile still lingering. Small strands of his hair are swinging down and layered over the side of his face. I bring my hand up and softly touch his cheek, caressing a strand of his golden, dirt-brushed hair and tucking it behind his right ear so I can get a better look at his face.

"You're beautiful," I whisper so quietly that it seems as if I don't even say it, but he can read my lips. His smile becomes a larger smirk as he breathes in and out slowly.

"You're extraordinary," he says a bit louder than when I had spoken. His voice is raspy, but smooth and delecate with each syllable. It makes me want him, his voice is what draws me in.

His smile fades just a little as he reaches above and over me to grab the carton of cigarettes from the coffee table. He picks two from the carton and motions for me to take one. After I place the cigarette in my mouth, River lights the end of my cigarette and then moves on to his. I position myself on my back, keeping my head on his lap. I take a drag of my cigarette, I can feel the smoke going down my throat and enveloping in my lungs after the second inhalation. I exhale and relase the smoke into the air above me, it intersects with Rivers smoke cloud. He looks down at me and smirks just before taking in his second drag.

My throat feels like fire and my breathing is tight. My face is cold, but I like it this way. River's lap is keeping the back of my neck warm. He radiates warmth, but he always looks comfortable.

After we put out our cigarettes I get up and head to the kitchen. River stays on the sofa and closes his eyes while leaning his head off the edge of the sofa. He starts humming Blackbird by The Beatles. I smile at his virtuousness.