Just A Touch – A Snippet from Chapter 10
The eighteenth-floor elevator button illuminated when Tey’s finger touched the key. He was anxious, hoping somehow she would be there.
The upward travel was unusually slow, and his clenched fingers stung from an unconscious grip. He thought about the last time Kalana came here. She was playful, like the first time, and they used the seclusion of the elevator cab to kiss, fondle, and grope. It was a bold gamble that the doors wouldn’t open on the way up, and upon leaving, they giggled like adolescents as they dashed to his studio.
He pushed the door, and like an actor walking on stage, Tey prepared himself to play a part. Kalana would be sitting on the stone tiles, a take-out box with katsu in one hand and chopsticks in the other. A bottle of red wine with two glasses would be next to her, and she would smile and wave at him to come near. He knows it’s a dream, a mirage, and her smile taunts him.
Kalana is a woman who dazzles without effort.
He found an envelope pushed under the door. His name was written on the front, but there was no stamp or return address, and he recognized the pen strokes as Kalana’s cursive.
I want to remind you that I’m thinking of you and how much you mean to me.
In these few weeks, you have become a part of me. I miss you already.
This is serious, Tey. I want us to be serious.
I dare you to fall in love with me.
There it was again. The last line. An invitation to walk through a portal and into her world. His mind raged, and he felt like a caged beast, searching for a path out of a taunting nightmare. His breathing quickened, and his hands were cold. He imagined her opening the door, welcoming him home. They would embrace, and he would enjoy her touch, her fragrance.
He struggled to breathe as he opened the door, and in his mind, she was there, and he could feel her body pressed against him – and then it was gone. The stage was bare, and he was alone.
Tey sat on the stone tiles of the balcony and wrapped his fingers around the metal balusters. Looking between the pickets, his eyes fixed myopically on the boundary between sea and sky, and he wished the hallucinations would end.
Phil A Davis 