Death and LillyChapter OneI rang your doorbell. I felt you hesitate before answering it. I knew thishesitation. It happened a lot. I quite enjoyed it actually. You flung the doorwide open. This surprised me. I liked being surprised. It rarely happened. Andthere you were. Beautiful. I’d never seen one quite like you. It wasn’t just theway you looked although that was appealing to me. There was something else.Something ethereal.Your initial reaction to seeing me was shock but you regained your composure soquickly that it was I that was... er... well... flummoxed! It wasn’t supposed tohappen that way. Well, what I mean is it’s hardly ever happened that way and I’dbuilt up an expectation and you….you….well, you’d gone and exceeded all myexpectations hadn’t you?‘To be honest I wasn’t expecting you,’ you smirked tantalising me with that glintin your eye that promised great depth to be explored. And I melted. It’s true. Idid. Happily. I smelt you. Not just your perfume or your natural pheromones. Ismelt you. Your smell was quite simply divine. I languished in it and then Icaught the look on your face and realised I hadn’t said anything. I laughednervously.‘Well,’ I said, drawing out the ll of well to give me more time to drink in yourbeauty before destroying the moment with words. ‘I’m here now.’You breathed in deeply, and I saw the curve of your splendid bosom rise. Then yousaid, ‘I’m ready. Would you like to come in?’ Suddenly I was overcome with grief.How could you be ready? I wasn’t ready. No. I wanted to run away. To escape thenatural law. But how could I do that? What would happen if I did that? Is itpossible? And I realised at once that if I ran away something else would fill myplace. So I bowed my head and walked in.You were sensitive. I mean that in all senses of the word. You were sensitive tohow I was feeling. Even now, I shake my head and all manner of emotions trip eachother up when I think of how gentle you were with me.‘Can I get you anything?’ you asked. I shook my head, unable to speak. I wanted tohowl. Words fail me in the description of the grief I felt at what was to come andit was unavoidable, it truly was. You knew it and so did I. Yet I kept hesitating,frozen in my grief. Breathe, I must breathe and I did. Long, deep breaths that gotmy grief moving again.We sat together in silence for a long time. Your presence soothed me. I thought ofthe others. And of how I had never felt like this about them. That made me feelsad. That I had been quite cruel and heartless and had even played with theirfears. I cried for them, silently at first and then with heaving sobs. You didn’trush to comfort me. You sat quietly, respectfully and I felt honoured that you didthat.When my tears stopped flowing you asked again if you could get me anything and Isaid ‘yes, a cup of tea,’ because I wanted something ‘normal’ to happen. I wantedto fit in. You placed your hand on my shoulder briefly before going to make thetea. That touch was like being bathed in golden light; so loving. Even now, Itouch my shoulder from time to time as a physical aide memoir.You arrived with the tea, which I didn’t touch and you asked how I was feeling. I
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