It seemed to me to almost be a type of agony the way he sounded
His eyes.
But I can't see past the two-inch screen of heavy fog
So I only guess.
The utterances from his mouth will do for now.
The screen reflects myself, looking back.
And it seems that the series of strings we attached are pulling.
Harder, harder, tighter, tauter
Stretching thick and growing stronger.
Close, closer, closing in on me is myself.
All I see is self centered death, a silent reflection.
And yet, even as I feel my strings breaking, his strings pull me closer
Closer, closing in on me.
Closing closer, close, he holds me tight.
Like the strings connecting us.
He whispers so only we can hear.
And the wall of fog does not seem to be breaking.
The two inch strings through the two inch wall of fog.
And all I can see is myself.
He whispers.
Close.
And I wish I could see his face clearly enough to note how his eyes gleam when his strings tighten instead of just how the fog swirls as his breath gently blows against it.
