brass / stories / 2007 / Stare

March 1, 2007

Still. Those eyes are what I’ll remember: piercing, intense. If anything it was if he was telling me something on a much different level than anything I had been accustomed to. I got the sense we were playing an intergalactic game of tag and he had just stuck it to me good, as if to say “gotcha, you lucky bastard. This time it’s your turn.” On a certain level I understood him. We had been chasing each other for lifetimes, spanning dimensions and consciousnesses as we passed through different forms of gyrating orange energy and pulsating blue matter. And here, in this lifetime – in this existence – we had found each other for the next act in the unfolding, brooding play. The characters were different, but the personalities in our respective communities were all set match, each awaiting our next move.

Suddenly, I realized the chess match I found myself in. A sinking feeling crawled over the pores of my skin as I realized I managed to pull a fast one over him last time.

His eyes said it all: this time I wasn’t going to get away so easily.