Before the building fell, I saw you. You saw me too, remember? Perhaps in my memory I can recall it for you… Before the chaos began, in the calm electric silence before the storm, I held your face in my hands. The soft hairs on your cheek and the skin still softer underneath, your wonderfully liquid eyes locked into my own, not a playful stare or one of lustful conviction, just the last one. Your hand were warm, clammy, soft, organic and holding on ever so carefully, like those of a person holding onto the slipping fingers of their best friend as they hang over a cliff. And just like that, your fingertips’ tiny grooved patterns traced there way slowly down my wrist, palm and then finally until only the tips of our fingers met and slid apart. You fell slowly, like a giant falling in the eyes of a minute atom, and the floor, it opened up beneath you into the clear blue cloud studded sky..
