Secret discoveries lead to revelations about space itself.
"So what's this then?" he asked her.
She turned and volleyed an ice-blue stare that reminded him of just how much about her he didn't know.
He turned the thought over in his head a few more times, tired of the exercise and shifted gears. She was looking into him, questioning. No, that's not right. Waiting. She was holding her breath waiting for him to announce his profundity. And he had some. He always had some. He would grab some elusive metaphor and juxtapose it just right and throw her completely off balance. Then, she'd find herself clawing to catch up. She didn't really want to be an active part in his ramblings, she just liked to hear him speak. He commanded the words to do his work. To perform an audio play. She could see them and sense their power. It was hypnotic.
He opened his mouth to speak again and held. The breath clawing its way back into her lungs betrayed her and she let an audible gasp slip. He didn't move but she knew that he saw it. She thought she could see the faint traces of a smile and then nothing. 'He's so good at me' she thought. If they gave out awards for that sort of thing, he deserved several.
He brought his hands up to his mouth. It was a trick he used to change pace quickly. He would effectively change his expression under their cover and the difference would be startling enough to distract. She didn't disappoint. She was taken off topic again.
Pointing his left hand slowly across the room, extending his arm, he said "Well, what do you see?"
"I see," she began, "a door".
He caught himself before he could look annoyed, "and?"
She wasn't following.
"Where do you suppose it goes?" he asked.
She thought about it for a second. It was a regular closet door. It was painted white that had begun to show wear in places. She had painted it herself, five years ago? At least. The question seemed silly. It was a closet. It was filled with coats, most of which were waiting for eventual disposal.
"I'm not sure..." she started before he silenced her with a look.
He pointed at the door again and motioned for her to open it.
She paused briefly and approached the door making certain to brush against him on the way. She knew the smell of her would intoxicate him and it was usually her best defense when he seemed to prefer the surreal. She reached for the knob and began to feel strange. There was a slight pulling in the pit of her stomach. When she touched the dulled brass orb, the feeling connected up her arm and to the door. It was vibrating, almost imperceptably.
Black Leather and Blue Denim, A '50s Novel is adult literature for anyone who likes 1950s' teen culture. BL&BD has been given a 5 Star Rating by ebookpalace.com and by Midwest Review
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