She lies down on the mossy floor of the forest and waits for him. She is on her back, legs bent, arms at angles; one over her chest, one by her side. Her breathing is soft. They had found this place together, and being there, waiting for him, makes her smile to herself. She tries to pass the time by finding faces in the leaves. She sings wordless songs to herself. She is aware of the dampness at the small of her back, tries to think of other things besides him. She cannot stand it, but there she lies, waiting. Seems like such a long time. The sky begins to darken and she waits. She turns over, clasps her hands and curls them under her chin. Maybe if she sleeps...no, it's futile. She can't. He runs through her mind when he is not in her sight. She wants to see him here in front of her, wants to touch him, feel his arms around her. She wants him beside her, wants to feel his body fit tightly against hers and wishes so much to feel his warm breath on her neck. She wants to hear his heartbeat. All the light has departed from the forest. The night sounds are starting and she is slightly uneasy, but she waits. Nobody but him knows where she is. He said he would find her, said he would be there, and assured her that they would be warm lying together on the moist green carpet of moss. She is not warm now, and she regrets not having a jacket. She regrets not having a jacket when the rain starts, when lightning makes a cameo of the trees and the ground shakes in response to thunder. Her hair is plastered to her face and shoulders and her teeth click together. She wraps her arms around herself, rocks back and forth, and waits for him. She sees shapes in the darkness, sees the movements of demons in the brilliant brevity of the lightning. She misses him so, and she knows she would fine if her were with her. But she is alone, waiting. She doesn't know he is safe and warm, holding another in those arms she dreams about. She doesn't know that she does not exist for him the way he does for her, she does not know that he does not keep his promises. She doesn't know, so she waits. Her skin is white and blue, glowing in the darkness, and she cannot feel her fingers. More lightning. She is very frightened now, she feels the thunder reverberate in her breast bone. She gets up to move under a tree, slips on the wet, uneven ground, and falls. Not even time for a cry to escape her. The click of her skull against the slick, black rocks is not heard over the thunder. Her blood mingles with the rain, is taken with it into the ground. It will feed the trees. Her arms are splayed, fingers curled, legs folded beneath her slight body. Her hair, heavy and dark with rain, is molded to her shoulders, face, and skull, mercifully covering the wound where her life is leaving her. No breath enters or escapes between slightly parted lips that are now the same soft, non-threatening color as lavender. Eyes are closed. She could almost be sleeping. Eventually the rain stops. The sky and forest are still, and she matches. Hours pass, the sky lightens and it is a new day. The sun passes overhead, dries her hair, warms the skin that can no longer feel warmth. Birds sing wordless songs, as she once did. The sun disappears behind the trees. The darkness returns, retreats, returns, and there she is...<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o></o> <o> </o> Still waiting.
