The bright white light will not allow me to see anything else, it encompasses all that my vision will allow. All my other senses are overwhelmed; sensory overload. I am numb. The beam directed at my cornea, as painful as it feels, is speeding the return of the focus I most desperately need.
I remember that light, more so, I see the dust floating through the air, a moment of time suspended. The diffused light passing through the window. The neurons of my mind working on overdrive as I touch upon one of those few perfect moments we are allowed in life. Frame by frame it passes, no faster than one of the penny arcade shows you used to love. I miss the Musée Mécanique. I would follow you there after our many adventures around Land's End. As those days would end about the coast, the light fades and the cold begins to penetrate the moment.
My head feels heavy my reaction time is slow. I feel hands probing, one hand firmly against my my forehead. The other slipped behind me at the base of my skull, fingers moving downward one vertebrae at a time.
I was being awaken by her hands. I could smell her. The lotion mixes with her scent in what i believed to be one of the most beautiful and welcoming sscents there must be in this world. I hear her set down my laptop. She removed my eyeglass slowly as not to disturb my slumber. I feel her familiar weight. Her hands checking feeling my forehead checking to see if I am feverish, always looking out for my health, she knew i would run myself into the ground if left to my own devices. She adjusts my head as she slips her arm behind my neck. her body firmly pressed to mine. She fell asleep right there in my arms. I never stirred except to wrap my arms around her.
Focus returns in flashes much as a window wiper would clear the windshield. They are mouthing words. I cannot understand. I cannot make out the face, just the gesticulations of the jawline. They look like shadows forming into matter before me. the light behind them almost blacks out all detail.
Always the socialite she would bring me to all sorts of functions. She would dress and lay out my suits for me. So often we would be parted as she was known where ever we went. An acquaintance, someone always looking to introduce her to someone else. But she would always find me where ever i was and i would tip my glass in her direction. Always mouthing "Save the last dance for me" and she, the angel, would always. Her hair pulled up, her earrings always understated, the neck line showing, the wisps of hair always there making me fall in love with her all over again.
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