'Perfect Stage'

In the darkness hidden behind the walls of thriving creepers and foliage, he had already in his mind that which would take place. It was a routine these past few months - an invisible and yet destructive habit of most relationships - indulging once too often in one another's physical company - an addiction many would innocently call 'young love', without knowing what they had termed. The night was working along with the dark, and the weather, rarely as it was then - held everything together perfectly.

He had led her by hand after they had reached his house, to the living walls near to the entrance of his home, and there, carefully secret and wishing - they were in each other's arms. It had never crossed his mind that for everytime and everywhen they touched, for every single visual of his desires made true - memory stains dormant like viruses, awaiting a later day to resurface and haunt: were born.

Residues of a fortunate encounter - the remains with the half-life of a hundred years.

But he did not know then.

His thoughts were now lost behind the wall of shadows and cricket-song.

Lost in her.

As lost as they ever would be, there and then.

( _")