She put her palm against her chest and felt the melody of her heart, and her eyes touched the skylines. Vision fell upon the majesty of the clock tower a few blocks down; the second hand ticked with a rhythmic stroke, just like that which was within her. It was one and the same, she saw it and she knew it, and she was glad.
Joan felt the wind running his fingers through her hair and she ran her own through them, with a tight band in one finger. She paced down the streets and saw the lights on the lamp posts, just as they were playing in reflections of her necklace. She reminded herself of the reality of this existence, this was but a dream she had called upon, a request that her guardians of siesta had granted, and she had no more till daybreak to spend this time. But she was not sure why she knew of this.
She arrived at the first shop at the junction where the street met the main boulevard. Everything else was gray and quiet. The light with which she used to see ceased to come from the lamp posts. Instead, her eyes were brightening, showing her every last vestige of the place that lay right in front of her now. The doorknob melted into a mixture of gold and immediately took the form of a pair of graceful arms with long slender fingers. They caressed her hands and she felt a faint kiss just above her wrist. She released the band on her hair and her ocher strands fell to her waist. They curled towards the door, nullifying their naturally vertical nature, and they became very beautiful. The hands of gold rubbed together an exquisite sentiment, and then escorted Joan through the door.
She couldn’t stop those crystals and fabrics from painting that camberous stroke on her face. A fresh, sweet scent followed her around the room, and wouldn’t let go. Still, there was no sound, just like outside, and her mind saw her free from dissonance and she sang the tunes of the notes in her eyes. Joan relished her privilege of green paper, not once did she lament about her greedy hands. She thought she didn’t have to.
With two packages hugging her arms and she exited and moved on to the next. The previous scent had released its tender vice and a new one impressed her more. It was like she felt the rain and tasted honey for the first time since ghastly decadence came. This one didn’t need the golden arms and scintillating eyes. She didn’t look back and stepped inside.
The person who came to attend to her bore an ashen mask and the whitest suit. Joan could only see his warm brown eyes, but that was enough to make her stay. He led her through a few doors, finally reaching a room from where that beckoning aroma arose. Putting a rose in her palm, he left. The space was circular and carpeted with crimson cloth. Two ladies, each having the most alluring smile one could afford, stood beside a cherrywood table. Upon that desk lay the most delicate chemicals that could induce the most delicate, most soothing pleasure, not forgetting the pair of catalysts that would be working their gentle fingers to bolster the reaction.
Joan left her bags to rest on the floor, and then she took off her clothes to reveal her tawny, silky skin, and the meticulous curvatures of her body. She stepped towards the soft bed in the centre and the two started their job, layering her skin with the very desires that fed her beauty.
She left the place about two hours later, only to see the clock tower again. It was six, but the sun had already donned its cape. Her heart beat accelerated with tension, and to her disbelief, the second hand followed. The boulevard was waiting for her patronage; the streets were tugging at her dress. She burrowed through her memories, and amidst the splinters, this was all she could get. This was all that was real.
The sky turned black, only to be torn through by an impaling light the next second. Joan looked again at the streets, and noticed for once, that they were empty. The only people who waited for her were the ones behind those doors. Colour leaked into her eyes; the sky was changing its shade. The lamp posts withdrew their light and hailed the rays coming from above. Joan remembered her sentinels of sleep and why she was having this dream; it was a leaf from her memory. This was real, this was who she was.
Her silver necklace tightened around her neck and she fell down, her head collapsing on her severe, jagged, crystal merchandise. The newer scent flooded her nose and closed his hands upon her soul, and he did this despite the light the sky, which was getting stronger and stronger. By her last breath, she saw the clouds part their ways, and a blinding flash came down upon her.
Then Joan awoke, just in time to see the sun rise.
©tc
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