Previous Entry found at: http://veritasexlogos.wordpress.com/2008/05/20/stories-told-to-be-forgotten-vi-clothing-makes-the-man/
Lights struck each particle as it hung aloft in the air by unseen breath. Each miniscule, insignificant remnants jerked unpredictably, as if by its own will, either falling or rising. Countless others certainly existed where curtains cut shadows on the floor, but they couldn’t be numbered or known – only those graced by the light could be seen. This common phenomenon struck Elle for the first time as her head hung over the edge of the desk. The upside down world outside the window had not pulled her from rest for an entire morning.
So it seemed her unknown lover was no more than one of these specks – one that came in and out of the light. Their intimacy would remain intact until she finally removed herself from atop the desk and got on with her life. So she waited, not for the sake of him, nor out of any self-pity or loathing, but for the sake of reverence as one sits in the pews long after a funeral without crying. Such was the necessary action she took to remedy the world outside the window that currently had trees for sky, and sky for ground. Her eyes darted back and forth around the room of books and antiquities and then back outside. A tree then a bible. A sword then a cloud. Grass and then an ashtray. The globe, then a face. Then a face.
Elle whirled from off the table spilling whatever books clung around her form. Desperate hands found an old newspaper to cover her body. Outside a foppish looking man was covering his eyes and stammering inaudible apologies through the old thick glass of the window. Elle quickly grabbed her clothing – her sudden recognition of the previous night’s sin having filled her ivory body with red patches. Luckily by the time she reached the back entrance she was clothed enough to once again find the foppish looking man averting his eyes.
Various half-syllabled words left her mouth before a shy ‘sorry’ followed. The young man’s gaze nevertheless counted blades of grass.
“I was just sunbathing.” Sunbathing? Her mind rebuked.
“Sunbathing?” He spoke as if a mind reader. “In my father’s study?”
“Your father’s study?”
“Well his former study.”
“Why former?”
“He is very dead.”
“Oh dear.”
“So I came to collect some of his stuff. I didn’t know he kept things like you around. He was more into books.”
“Oh dear. I am not…”
“No explanations necessary. Mother has been dead for some time now, in case you were worried. I am actually proud of the old man. He vowed chastity after she died. A little old fashioned for our times though. Such is life I suppose. Can I come in?”
“This is your house.”
“Oh. Right. Well then, please come in. Make yourself at home.” The odd man half-pushed Elle out of his way and into the house behind her. She was stunned. She had thought that the old man had simply vanished. She hadn’t seen him since she was a girl. The house had begun to all but rot away – hence the late night break-in. Now an apparent heir informs her of his death and all she can think about is her unnamed lover and how she would never see him again. “Come in. Come in. I’ll put on some tea. We can sit and chat. I would love to hear how you became so acquainted with my father.”
Veritas Ex Logos 