Good Game – End of the Affair

January 30, 2013



There’s a small asteroid, spinning in orbit somewhere between Mars and Jupiter; like the one St. Exupery’s Little Prince lived on, about that same size and colour, twenty or thirty city blocks in circumference and sapphire blue: L559-E103, the star-gazers named it.I zoom in and see two people immersed in a blood-red aura. They approach the badminton net between them, dropping the rackets they hold; clasp their hands above the net and stare wearily into each others eyes. “Good game,” they agree through the mesh of the net, and as the weave of their fingers unravel, their auras turn to a soft peaceful blue.

Turning away and without looking back they set out towards the antipodes of the tiny asteroid. They begin slowly, somewhat dejectedly, slumped a little. They continue on, refusing to look back and are struck with a barely perceptible impulse neither can recall or define. But it causes them to straighten a bit, rise taller in their walking. Again, the impulse lights up in their minds; is recognized now as fleeting joy. They become taller yet, and consciously lift the crowns of their heads as they grow further apart, never looking back. Never looking back!

They involuntarily quicken their pace, the impulses joining together to form short joyful thoughts, immersing them in bursts of golden light. Soon they are running faster and faster, bunches of impulses turning to thoughts, and thoughts turning into emotions. Light streams more radiantly down on them. Dashing, sprinting now, racing until they think their lungs will burst with each new breath, and eyes go blind from the light that leads them. When: another step becomes impossible; each falls, spent, in a hard-breathing heap, and is overcome by sleep. They are as far away from each other as it is possible to be, on their planet, at least.

A boy awakens from the slumber of memory without any idea how long he has been asleep. He kneads the fog from out his eyes, clasps his hands round his knees and draws himself into a ball. Innocently, he looks off in the direction of a new galaxy.

At the opposite end of the diametric bond: a girl does precisely the same.

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