I'm not out of sight to be here tonight

The most prickly feeling in the world is pine needles rubbing against my cheekbones. The faint crack of dawn, the whoosh of a world of brightness, the unraveling of my skin from the faint creases of my bedding, serve as my wake-up call. The haphazardly thrown sweatpants that serve as my sleeping covers feel rough and gritty to my touch; its as if my future is being dictated to myself. I look through the slits at the top of the light colored fabric, our protection, our savior. The sky is a dark grey, cold and overbearing, its as if God has spilt a cup of dark tea in fierce anger, with each drop absorbing its pale, menacing darkness into the approaching clouds. The drips of rain, God's tea drops from the sky, lightly blip our tent. An irritated creature squawks and startles me, forcing one eye to slam its way open, blurring my right eye. Jeeze. What a day to be alive. I slowly begin to stretch, steadying myself in preparation for another day in these shrill, uncertain mountains; a place of which we are not accepted. I think of where we were supposed to have landed, and to the trip we were supposed to have gone, and yet..I struggle to think. It's better this way. Adjusting to my surroundings, I hear a slight rustle to my right, and I can't help but smile and stare, even as a few drops of rain beat a slight drum on our fabric roof. The roof that holds us together? God, she's beautiful. Her dark, full, hair streams back through the arch of her neck, and lands peacefully on the canvas, the torn, the uprooted ground. She opens her dark, tired, brown eyes, left one first, then the right, as if afraid to see. The chirp of a loud jay interrupts my stare, and I roll over, watching for that damn root!, and I close myself in towards her. Like a cat with its prey, she lightly grins with her half open eyes as she sees me approach, her cheeks and eyebrows tightening, her features so inviting. Her hair flickers up and over her back as she sits up, her unholy brown eyes brightening ever more, the nearer I approach. Her cheek is stained, a small, brownish muddy spot was evidence to the leaks in our, our, our.. prison. I wipe her cheek with my hand, and I notice her lips curl into a smile, systematically I swear, she's so perfect with her timing, (She'll always be that little banker!) and our lips meet. The droop of her lips is gone. The caw of a some winged creature is very near and unsettles her a tiny bit; she positively shrinks when she is in my arms. I'm the fortress for her. She's the thread that keeps our fabric together. Tip tat, tip tat, the water drips over top of us. Its a beat, a small bongo drum that mimicks our hearts, beating faster and faster. This small river of rain is soon to be a sea; a wide, regrettable sea, reminiscent of me and my Marie back in our childhood. I gnaw gently on her collarbones, holding her close, closer than I've ever wanted. Have you ever felt so alone, Marie, that you cannot speak in fear of the approaching thunder? I whisper to her. She nods, and I hold her. Thunder begins to roll.

-Tyler Stunna-