Member-only story
FICTION | 1960’s | RELATIONSHIP
Nude in Malone’s kitchen.
The day I met her
What struck me was her stillness, like a rose cut out of time. Draped between crumpled sheets struggling to conceal her, she lay with one arm flung upwards, blotting out the morning sun. I expected Malone to be waiting as I climbed into the trailer, but there was only her. I stood, unsure how to act, and stepped watching the rhythmic cycle of her breath. The place was a mess with objects covering the floor. To my left, a fly caught in a spider’s web thrashed against delicate threads desperate to escape. Did I enter into a world I was not meant for? Then the woman caught between dreams stirred. Rustling caught my gaze when her arm extended further, and she shifted causing the bedsheet to slip to the floor. Her exposed breasts rose and fell with skin prickling in the disturbed air. At that moment a jolt hit me with emotions I had no words for. Fear perhaps, told me I should turn away, but I remained. The web trembled, struggling to hold its prey.
She was the first nude I had ever seen. A deep inhale broke the trailer’s silence, and her eyes flickered, but she didn’t flinch, and for a while, stared past me at the ceiling, as if expecting some cue. Slowly she stretched to a bedside table and picked up a cigarette. She lit it in silence.
