She sits in the middle of the bed staring straight ahead, greeting the morning sun, alone and unafraid. The sun shatters the darkness of the room but is not entirely reflected within. Knees folded to her chest with hair pulled back and wearing a simple dress, she gazes contemplatively out the window; hints of loneliness and indecision are indicated by the subtle hunching of her shoulders and set of her mouth.
Isolated up here on these slightly wrinkled sheets. Seemingly vulnerable but look closer. The loneliness will not best her, look at her calmly splayed fingers. Transfixed by the sunlight yet not really seeing it for she is engrossed in thought. Her shadow falls on the pillow behind her but ahead there is the possibility of connection, of vitality, of chaos and conformity at nearly every turn. Should I do what I most desire? Do I stay here, halfway to desperate and just as remote? Look at the brilliant blue of the sky. Throw off the constraints of the outside world as much as possible and live freely. Free.
Change my life.
Look with wonder at the setting sun and rising moon.
Alone yes but not without memories. The light dances over her body while the darkness almost hides mine. There is joy and hope here. Alienation and sorrow as well. Delightful intrigue. Who or what occupies her mind? Can I ever know her? Collide together for one brilliant moment of profound understanding before falling in separate directions or perhaps uniting in a tangled mess of thoughts, dreams, lives, limbs, and hearts.
Somewhere someone else watches this same skyline. Maybe looking out a different window in a different city. A different face appears when her eyes close, when his eyes stare blankly. Looking up at the clouds racing overhead, fingers combing through the grass. Variety of emotions. Some thoughts tinged with regret, others will guilt, and still some with simple unadorned acceptance. Watching the steel gray clouds dump another six inches of snow on the already fatigued land. Red boots stamping an involute path. Then backward and forward in time to where only imagination can go.
Would it be true? Is that even the point?