The Room

“Soft and powdery,” she thought. Would scrunching her toes feel like beach sand, with its rough edges carefully hewn away? She could feel the dust heavy in the air, undisturbed. It adhered to every surface of her body, inviting itself onto, into, and over her very being. Her heart beat faster, every extremity seemed to be pulsing to the same drum beat, as though daring her to open her eyes and witness - witness what she could so clearly imagine already.

She stood at the threshold, one hand reaching out in front of her. She could smell something so familiar, like a childhood memory had come to life. Her hand reached out further, and she could feel the warmth on her hand now, cascading comfort, tumble dried with the heady scent of youth. It sparked the memory of making a mess with him. His laugh lines were etched into the back of her eyes. Her eyes opened, and a blurry image swam into view. She needed to know, she needed to be sure. They opened to an explosion of color bathed in warm light.

She understood now. The trolley in the corner of the room held an extraordinary amount of paint, tubes, pans, and palettes stacked together, as if hurriedly ushered out of the way to make space. Several crinkly, rolled, and expended tubes could be found all over the room. Multiple canvases were hung on the wall, creating a jigsaw puzzle of broken art, wanting to belong but not quite complete or meant to be. On the other side of the room, several pieces were stored, one leaning against another. A large drop cloth was carelessly strewn over it, still offering some magic to the keen-eyed. The skylight bathed the centre of the room in a warm orangy glow, flecks of dust and pastel catching in the rays of sunlight, dancing in place, barely shifting, barely there but striking. It was there that her eyes were fixed.

Her hand dropped slowly. She blinked rapidly. Could she believe her eyes? She had finally found him. The man in the middle of the room, bathed in warmth and color, stood with his hand poised, a stub of cool blue held in the warm light. The next stroke on the canvas begged to be brought to life. His striking eyes were fixed on her. She recognized those smile lines. “I remember,” she whispered.

With their eyes still on each other, she entered the room, careful not to disturb the precarious arrangement of connected canvases. “Lucien,” her whisper disturbed the rays of dust illuminated by the light, tangible magic. His once piercing eyes had grown hard in an instant. “So, you rebel against the shunning as well,” he said as he turned away. To her this was enough, this one gesture held the magnitude of an entire world of people telling her she would never be enough. This one gesture told her, she would never see those beautiful smile lines again. “Lucien. This is important,” she was fighting the tears, choking the words out, hoping he wouldn’t hear it. “You can’t be here Senna, you know what you did,” she did not hear the pain in his voice.

She took in the room once more, it was everything they had dreamed together, brought to life. The dust felt cloying now, so enveloping it felt like she would never find a way out. She needed out, now. Out of this space and out of this conversation. Years, amounting to this moment and her instinct was still to run. She pursed her lips and took a sharp breath, the damn dust coated her very insides. “I’m aware of why our paths diverged, but it’s time, Lucien. You have to warn the elders. It begins. The prophecy is unfolding, one choice at a time. You have a part to play in this, a choice of your own with terrifying consequences. I had to…”

“You had to? Really?” his voice teetered on delirious “I begged you Senna, I begged you not to delve deeper. I begged you to keep it to yourself, I begged you to choose me! You made a choice every single time. Your choices, my consequences. Do not. Just do not give me the same shit after all this time” his eyes were wide, breath escaping in short puffs. The dust was listening, hanging off of every word. These words, they felt like a tightly wound nut, with years of accumulated dust and rust finally coming free. It was an uncomfortable process. The result was still relief. She could feel the tension twisting into relief. She couldn’t help herself, she smiled.

“You always did know how to bottle and release. How long have you been rehearsing that? A decade?” She chuckled softly. This action gave her some room, a heavy curtain parting, emptying a way forward to the man with piercing eyes, the hard eyes, the wide eyes, the smile lines. She stepped forward tentatively. She was close enough to breathe him in, he still smelled like comfort, a handmade mud pie that left the messiest imprint.

“No Senna, I refuse to melt” he had visibly relaxed. “You don’t get to just walk back into the life we were meant to build together. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. You were shunned! How did you even find me? Do you know how bad this is going to be for me when they find out! Did you even consider the consequences I would have to face? Did you?” every question and statement rushed out, afraid they wouldn't be voiced for another decade. The dancing ray of sunlight had shifted. The window behind them illuminated new strands of hanging dust, shifting perspectives, almost as if they intended to match the conversation.

“I’m sorry for the way it all unraveled a decade ago, Lucien. I’m not sorry for doing it though. I couldn’t stick my head in the sand and pray it all away. They needed to know what I saw. The world is ending, and I will end it - or you will end me.” She had seen it, as true as the dust dancing before her.