to plumb the depths

she was waiting for his arrival. she knew how to watch by sitting with eyes unfocused. in the swells of day that are summer, sound is part of the view. she would hear the pock of stones in the unsettled drive. then an engine would roar around the yew.

birdsong would return once the ignition was switched. footsteps would echo on wood. "feanor?" he might call through the peeling screen. at her request he had come.

she opened the door and greeted him with a resplendent grin. he tipped his hat and clutched his tools. she lead him to the plugged up bathtub.

ripples and steam. her worn out skeleton padded by flesh. heat transporting her. thimble of water as she bent and stretched. blurring of all definitive lines. light reflected in a bead of dew. cats on the ledge, eyes dark and wide and cloaked in awe. her shimmering under. the lost feeling of slender grace. a delicious width. her soft limbs draped in sequins.

it always began as an exercise in relaxation. the water filled her and then she was emptied. her breath was renewed as she slipped into heat. her limbs went limp and her lids were drawn. scenes from the day played before her. and there was color and music. her very own. it always began as an exercise in relaxation and it always ended in epiphany. this evening she decided it was time finally to accept henzel's invitation. in two days she would begin the journey to trillium falls.