I woke late this afternoon to one of my employees pounding on my front door.
I answered it, and let him in for coffee. He proceeded to inform me about a pestilence that has struck one of my larger crops. It destroyed a thousand gold worth of profit in several days. They attempted to get control of the situation, and could not. Thus, he came to me.
To be honest, I hardly heard a word he said. I could only stare at the steam rising from the cup. Curls of silver drifted from the black liquid and dissipated into the stale afternoon air.
He wondered what was on my mind. I could tell that he worried about my temper due to the situation of the thistle crops. He seemed startled that I hardly had any reaction at all. I think he expected me to hurt him when he came to my front door.
I could not tell him the true reason for my lack of interest.
I had spent last night with the woman I loved.
And when I say that, I do not mean physically intimately. Though, the thoughts had crossed my mind dozens of times.
She took me to a place of her's late in the evening. We spoke until the sun cracked through the sky in shades of violet, pink, and gold.
Every moment I was with her caused all the twitches and aches in my body to disintegrate. I was young again, and my heart was filled with a tranquility and joy that is beyond expression.
I promised myself to not explain to her how I felt. Such a thing would only lead to further misery.
Yet I did not fully keep that promise. I decided that since I intend to leave again (though without prison bars this time) that this feeling was important enough that she needed to know. To hide it forever would only cheapen it. I did not expect her to reciprocate. I expected her disgust. Or an awkwardness between us that would dissolve the friendship.
I told her very plainly, 'I like you.' It was blunt and straight forward.
She stared at me. I could not read her expression.
As we spoke further I learned that she had already known how I felt. I was, in her words, not the sort of man to invest so much time into her without having some sort of ulterior motive. I felt obtuse. Was I so obvious? Or was she merely that insightful? I was careful of myself around her. I never touched her. I made no advances.
She admitted that her feelings were similar; and that if we lived in a different circumstances and time that she would not spurn me. I was oddly satisfied with this. We both seemed to not be saddened by our situation, rather, we were happy to have met one another at all. We laughed after the conversation closed.
As it is, we both knew even before the subject was brought up that no romantic involvement can happen. I lead a complicated and dangerous life. I am emotionally fragile and she is cautious. Additionally, I plan on leaving the city come the 31st of July for an extended period of time.
We both agreed that it was the little things in life that mattered. I told her a story about a woman I dated once, long ago.
The woman and I had met for coffee every morning for a week. I enjoyed our morning routine we had developed. We sat in silence at a small white table just as dawn was breaking. Silver blue sunlight would slip through the open window and breathe across the tendrils of steam from the coffee. We were silent. I often read a book, and she would stare out the window as she brought herself into the waking world. Those moments were precious to me.
When I asked the woman that I was seeing about those mornings, she had forgotten. Suddenly, I was the carrier of a memory for the both of us. I was angry and frustrated at her, and snapped. I called her names, and many other unkind things.
My friend was sad for me. We agreed it was such little, beautiful things that carry all meaning. She said she could relate to the beauty in life, and told me a similar story of when her ex-love used to brush her hair. I only wished that I could share something like that mutually with her.
I longed to kiss her. I wished to express to her that when I told her that I "liked" her... I truly meant that I loved her. Words could not convey the thought that a way a kiss could.
When I say that I love her, it is not because I want her. It has nothing to do with me. I love her for what she is. I love her brilliance and her strength. I love her flaws and her humor. I love how she sees the world, and how she looks at me.
But, I did not. Nor did I make the attempt.
She gave me a green stone pendant on a silver cord before we left. She told me the stone was from her shale-stone spider. As long as the spider lived, the stone would glow in the dark. To me, it almost seemed like a beacon or a lantern to light my way in the shadows. I appreciated the gift very deeply.
A strange feeling came over me as I half-listened to my employee. I decided that I had no desire for anyone else. Not physically, not emotionally. And even though I can not have this woman in my life as a lover, my heart is sated just knowing she exists.
In an unusual display of patience, I gave my employee more than enough gold to take care of the issue. I told him we shall destroy the rotten, bug infested plants and we shall start anew.
It was a symbolic, yet practical gesture.
Yours truly,
Kiaphus
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