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Allegory, It

2004-04-04 - 10:01 p.m.

Soundtrack: "Sweetest Decline" by Beth Orton

The spiral shells corkscrew around and along the ground, still and grey, an overcast sky spilling out up top. Lightning and thunder do their thing while the earth rends and churns, falling away in leper patches.

He's standing upside-down, still, admiring the conical ridges he's standing on. He ambles for a time, the wind dying down with every step. Rock formations play oboe and bass. He's passed away from the shells and let an umbrella whip out. The sand is only occasionally a pain in the ass, sortof an ironic commentary on the cyclone several miles off.

He passes by a shallow pond of crystalline water with patchwork arms of tufted plants. There's a woman sitting by the 'beach', feet and backside down, head tilted back and knees up. She has her mouth open, waiting for rain that won't come. Her strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes are campfires against the muted landscape.

He walks over and sits down, waiting for rain to hit his tongue.

Time passes.

"How's the weather?" She asks out of nowhere, face still pitched up.

He looks around. "Bleak."

"Ah, yeah, looked that way from over here."

More time passes, the two seeming to forget that the other is there. Her hand entwines around his, fumbling like the smile quickly smeared on his face.

"I haven't see you around here before," the guy says.

"Haven't been around here in a very long time," she replies, "I thought it would look different somehow, or that I'd forget where it was."

He blinks and looks up at the tumult gnashing above them. "How'd you find it?"

"I wasn't really looking, to be honest." She knits her forehead. "Then I saw you and it sortof started coming together--well, or breaking apart; both of those, I guess."

He nods. "I usually try to forget this place exists. I figured it wasn't worth the bother. Surprised to see you here, though, but not in a bad way."

She lowers her head from the sky and looks at him. "Likewise."

A floating hulk of earth and stone explodes far off, yards of smoking debris violently echoing against the earth and a distant ocean.

"Your hand feels warm," he comments.

She absently thumbs his skin in curiousity. "Sorta weird, y'think? I mean, it seems like it should be freezing out, but it's kinda mild."

He smiles at her. "I guess at least the temperature is on our side." They both laugh at that, though neither can say why.

Her face gets mischievious, fingers following suit as she tickles him, offending his stomach but not him.

"So, Dr. Mystery," she says, "Wanna compare itemized lists of personal details?"

He chuckles and then laughs. "Might as well make it official, just to be sure."

Both pull out sleek looking portable laptops, making progressively odder faces as they click through folders and documents. Satisfied, they switch their machines and read.

"Y'know all these details are sortof like a baggage claim ticket," one of them comments, "While you like knowing it's there, you don't really need the damned thing." The other grins.

The heavens are ripped apart by flame and thunder, rolling and billowing. Suddenly a drop hits Dr. Mystery's head.

"Tea?" She smiles.

"Why not."

The rain comes down in gentle sheets, like an afterthought. Somehow the tortured changing landscape stops for a moment, as if remarking on the ironic weather with its friends.

Everything stops except two mouths, wafting like sea bass with gurgles and half-drowned laughter. The drops soak them throughly, nibbling away into a pleasant numbing, all except one small space still being cupped.

The ground evaporates, in air rivers crossing upward, while darkness and noise frolic with breathless skipping. Dr. Mystery and the red-haired woman look up, at each other, and back up again--their words just a pair of baggage claim tickets floating up and away, then gone.

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