Wet Cement
The door made an abrasively loud shout as I made my way through it to a empty field.
Where have I seen this place before?
Thinking and thinking, I made haste throughout the grassy green that waved slowly to the right.
My dreams, perhaps?
No, this was a dream already, as the door behind me was not connected to any room.
Yes, it is only logical that it was in a dream.
Logical... Hah, the irony in that sentence caused me to chuckle a slightly forced chuckle.
I continued my venture, and eventually came upon something, or someone.
Who might this be?
Creeping up, I instantly denoted from the curvature of its body that it was feminine at least, and it's hair rest far down close to it's bum.
Um... Who are you?
Silence was sent from the other end of the conversation, which made me purse my lips.
Tell me, who are you? And what is this place?
Still no reply, the wind that smack me in the cheek gave me the person's answer already.
Growing upset, I touched it's left shoulder with my right hand, and vice-versa for the opposite, and finally saw it's face.
It was mine.
The mirror-spitting image pushed me back several feet, my mouth wide open.
Why in the hell would my face be on this body?
The body was that of a woman so slender that she could make a stack of printer paper want to shed a few sheets.
She inched closer, and I slid backward.
Eventually she sat on top of my me.
Ah, she feels surprisingly light.
If her face was different, perhaps I'd be turned on by this...
Shaking my head and ridding the perverse thoughts, I stared deeply into her eyes as she did mine.
This girl, she's... sad?
No... depressed?
No...
Empty.
While she and I shared the same mouth, eyebrows, cheekbones, chin, ears, and so on, she lacked something.
A soul.
Her body gave no sense of expression as she stood still as on top of me.
I wanted to know what it was she wanted, but she gave no signs of opening up to me.
I came up with fifty different clichéd reasons on the spot as to what her motives could be, but I secretly knew it was not needed.
I knew what I wanted.
To be like wet cement, in that second within that moment, I knew that is what I wanted.
The cement necessary to fill the gaping holes that lie within her.
Within those glassy, soulless eyes.
But those same exact eyes also distilled me with fear, they pierced through me like sharp daggers.
I realized though, that it was she who was in the most pain and fear, not I.
Immediately, with almost a sense of complete carelessness, I wrapped my arms around the thin body.
Almost twice around actually.
Our heads rested on respective shoulders.
My eyes, they started to grow weary.
My body, it began to grow exhausted.
It was as if all of the energy was being drained from within me.
But that was okay, I said that I wanted to be like wet cement, and I will stay true to my word.
Sitting there, my eyes began to drop, and my vision began to go in and out of focus, like a cheap and horrid digital camera.
The battle to keep them open was long, perilous, and hard.
And I also lost.
My eyes started to close slowly like the doors to a palace at the end of a party.
But before all the lights in the palace had shut off, before all the guests had left the premises, and before all the hosts had gone to bed, a whisper could be heard.
A higher pitched whisper.
"Thank you..."
And then I woke up.