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It is a warm summer day, the kind that starts really early at five in the morning when she is being woken by the chirps of the early birds. She squints as she opens her eyes as the light is too intense, the air feels too brisk, and the day seems too young to start already.
A grateful smile plays on her lips when she realizes she doesn’t have to get up yet. She can let herself drift off again, dwell in an ever so peaceful slumber, doze off and travel to a surreal world of limitless dreams.
She rolls around and yawns, surprised to feel fur gently brush against her gloves, but the fur isn’t hers and the gloves are quite different, too.The rubber feels stiff against her warm palms, and they’re covered in dirt. Then, as she looks around, she sees two pairs of soft, white cotton gloves on a nightstand.
Sweet realization starts to kick in when she recognizes the smell of this place along with his husky scent that matches the thick, cool summer air with the promise of today. Slowly moving, Amy turns her head toward a skylight and rubs the sleep from her eyes, using her wrist. She still feels the need to squint for the sun at this particular hour is low, and the light is intense, even when the curtain only lets through a single ray of light.
It’s not entirely closed, she notices.
As the wind softly blows a welcoming breeze through the opening she remembers how it’s always like this, that it cannot possibly be the first time she witnesses this.
The light has a hold over her now. She is unable to shake off the grasp of upcoming thoughts and her consciousness, that’s starting to wake. She senses it in every ounce of her being; she’s past the point of no return, and focuses on the single, horizontal ray of light that manages to break into the room. It randomly highlights the many plants under the window. The way the light arbitrarily displays them is something that catches her eye, gives her perspective, another point of view. She thrives as the light bathes her skin in warm, luminary yellow, and makes her jade colored eyes even brighter.
Amy always endeavores to shine a light in the dark, where no one else can see it. And she feels no different when it comes to valuing the odd, the unlikely shapes of ambient occlusion. She is fascinated by the shadows. She knows by now that she always will be, as her soul was never truly fearful of the dark. She always sees a silver lining, a spark to ignite, a last reflection of a gruesome past to turn into a blazing flame of hope.
She senses a connection is being established between her and him, at this very moment. It feels deep and serene like an ocean, strong like the pulling force of the tides, yet gentle as the waves washing over her pink toes. She’s positive; not only has she seen this before, it suddenly seems like she belongs here in a strange kind of way.
Carefully, she rises a little, sits up whilst trying not to wake him. With a single glance around his studio apartment, all falls into place. The stacked up cardboard boxes in the corner of the living room, along with her kitchen supplies on his counter, do ring a bell to her. Amy suppresses the urge to scream into her pillow with glee. A warm feeling starts spreading through her chest. Her soul glows. It radiates like a pure form of Chaos.
Unable to decide whether to jump out of bed, make him breakfast and start unpacking at this ridiculous hour, or snuggle back up to him again, she just sits there and she muses over a daydream that surely will become an exciting reality. The eerie sensation of the touch of rubber gloves, that are, once again, not just hers, catches her attention. This time however, she’s aware that it’s him she lies down with, that it’s his arms she’s being held in, loosely. He curls up like a ball around her, holding her closer.
She chuckles softly, almost inaudible, as she doesn’t want to spoil this moment with him, when she remembers how they dove into his garden last night after they brought all of her stuff here. She can’t wait to use the berries they gathered from his garden and bake something in their kitchen. Never in her life has she tasted berries that are this good!
A quick glance at her wristwatch, from between her thick, black lashes, shows her what is slowly beginning to dawn to her; the start of this day is already far, far behind her. A new day is about the start. She shifts her dreamy gaze to the skylight and watches the light slowly fade out as the dark becomes, once again, the ruler of the night. Amy is not certain whether she felt this excited about the break of day, in the middle of the night, before. It seems so utterly mundane.