One Day

Sparing moments. That was what they had. Both knew that these moments, flashes, vignettes in their lives would last so little time. They were only permitted so much time.

So they made the most of it. The rare muscle spasm of smiles graced their lips. Glints of color and emotion flitted across their eyes. For once the two relished the sensation of touch. Usually touch equaled pain, but when Peter and Simone held hands it felt wonderful.
Like two worlds colliding softly and in their wake leaving a tiny, innocent pool of gentle ripples. Their skin tingled, in a good way, which was so rare between them.

Love. And emotion neither thought they would have the chance to feel. A commitment neither thought they would ever have the honor of making. Gifts of smiles of smiles and sighs, stray touches and even more stray kisses. The feeling of fingers combing through hair and smiles through on skin.

They both preferred the smell of each other to the smell of sterile needles and antiseptic. They preferred the texture of palms and fingers to that of the medical gowns and cold metal.

Bodies are so warm. So welcoming. Hugs and caresses were so much more when two bodies were involved. Kisses meant far more when placed on shoulders or necks than on lips. That lesson took some time to learn.

But their time together was always so sparing.  Short bursts of time, short bursts of happiness, short bursts of smiles that were accented by glassy eyes.  Not enough time with hands being held, not enough time with lips on foreheads or fingers in hair, not enough time for anything.  And that was the worst part, wasn’t it?  Everyone else had time, all the time in the world—they weren’t kept so painfully separate like Simone and Peter.  They were all gifted with the privilege of being so happy.  Peter and Simone only had bits of happiness interspersed with solitude and depression.

One day it won’t be like this.  They told each other as they watched the clock count down.  One day we’ll get to be together, like real people.

Childish dreams.  Things they clung to because they needed some semblance of hope, especially considering where they would be going once they were pulled apart.  Torn away from each other like they weren’t people—that was what Peter said.  Simone knew better.  They weren’t people, they were test subjects, their lives forever forfeit.  Peter never accepted that though.  Maybe that was why she loved him so much.

Stray last kisses, whispers that they’ll see each other again, a promise that could be broken through no fault of their own.  Their lives weren’t theirs to control.  Simone’s never was, Peter’s hadn’t been his for long.

But love.  Love was what this was.  Love was real, was tangible, was what kept them alive after everything had been done to them.  And one day, one day like Peter swore, they would get to experience love without a time limit.

One day soon.