An empty room of ancient Greek marbles, unguarded, and my permeable inspiration waiting to be molded. And it was shaped a bit that day, for when I glanced in the room I saw Him. Yes, Him with a capital H, because he was and never was human, nor a remake of human, but a standard of otherworldly orientation, he was, quite organic, VERY lifelike in size and stature, but still Greek stylized. Big nose and deep, hollow eyes. We stood face to face.
I took a glance left, then a quick look right. Left again. No one. That gaze mimicked every other Greek marble, yes, but His was different; the expression and lowset brow bones. dita sulla pelle di pietra. I stroked it and Jet black lightning struck down my spine- 5 layers of chills outlined goosebumps on my arms.
A glance to the left.
My eyes worked over the details of his ears. La sua testa. Maxilla. Zygomatic arch. Curious, gentle hands following.
A glance to the right.
He was venturing into something so deep in myself I never knew existed, undiscovered until now. Hollowed pupils and parted lips. I cocked my head and leaned in closer- yet another blast of romance and emotion. Pride and humiliation at the same time. I was so close, I had expected that kissing scent, like that smell when you’re kissing someone, but of course it wasn’t there.
My heart drooped at this, and it was quite amusing.
I felt relieved. Revived in this ancient art work. I was in love, not with Him himself, but what he helped me see. Like I was turned inside out and all the muck spread on the spotless tiles.
But I was discovered. “… uhhh, Steph, what are you doing?” Lydia was standing there for a while.
“Nothing”
The Human Healer’s Stories 