There is a certain beauty to a woman who has wet trails of mascara running down her face.
She sobbed, the inebriation enhancing all of her feelings.
She spoke vigourously, screamed occasionally.
Sometimes she talked directly to me.
Other times she spoke directly to the night.
She felt like a ghost.
Ignored.
I caressed her back reassuringly.
I said all the words I could conjure up to try and make her feel better.
Sometimes she would calm down.
Sometimes she would get worse.
I suggested we take a walk, explore the night.
It was only a block to the end of the neighborhood.
We entered a trail and walked away from the houses.
A little ways in there was a tall hill that overlooked all the surrounding areas.
I helped her to the top and we watched the explosions going off all around us.
Some lit the sky.
Others just lit the edges of your vision, trapped in one of the surrounding neighborhoods.
We watched, taking in the atmosphere.
Taking in the beauty of a world that forgot we were there.
When there was a lull in the cacophony of sirens and explosions, I helped her down the hill.
We took the path deeper.
We talked amidst the hazy darkness, barely able to see the world around us.
We crossed a bridged stream.
We were both calm.
We came to a forested area, the nearest houses visible through some trees off to our left.
The encroaching trees blocked what little moonlight there was.
Fireflies lit up in the brush around us.
There was intermittent brightness from the explosions.
Eventually she decided we should turn back, as we had walked for a long time and had no idea where it led.
As we started walking back, she slipped her hand into mine.
It stayed there whether our arms were swaying as we walked or she was emoting with them in the air.
For a while at least.
Soon we were back to the hill we stood on before.
The night was calmer, the explosions dying down, the hazy darkness more complete.
The ambient illuminations of the neighborhoods around us barely encroached into our little respite.
We talked as we stood there.
Her, giving out her fears.
I, giving out reassurance.
She rested her head against my chest as I ran my hand across her back.
I felt her breathing against my chest.
We walked back, and went about our lives, taking the beauty of the moment with us. We’d never share another moment like that again.
$title =
Mascara
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