Vision

I'm not asleep…
       …Not completely asleep anyway.

For the past half an hour I've been bargaining with myself just to open my eyes and once again see the world of cats and dogs, occasionally being electrocuted by thousands volts of lightning. If it weren't for the thunder I'd probably still be happily sedated in my pre-hangover coma.

Thunder again.

I continue my bargain – part of me curious to find where my body had dragged me to before collapsing.
I open one eye. The world is still there. The storm doesn't seem to be considering giving me a break. The VCR is blinking 8:00 AM over and over again. The zeroes are watching me like two little sarcastic eyes. The clock on the wall has his own theory – giving me an 11:14, as the big arrow speeds towards the 15t h. Something catches my attention.

Those are not the only two eyes watching me.

She's sitting on the window pane, smoking a cigar. There's no sarcasm in those eyes… perhaps only a well deserved pinch of amusement over my ritual of returning from the dead.
For a moment I decide to rise from the bed but the sealing has caught up with my scheme and flips along with me. Lying down seems ok as well.
Having in mind that I've been among the living for only so long I've already figured out that I haven't been blessed with the gift of speech just yet. And so I lay and look at her looking through the window. The raindrops are looking back at her.
She turns her eyes towards me as she sucks the life out of the cigar. 'It doesn't really matter, you know' she says as the smoke is unwillingly cast out of her lungs. She turns her attention back to the storm.

She's different.

I close my eyes again. Maybe it's the sudden lack of clothes that makes all the difference but there's still something else. Going back to my pre-reincarnated self, the night before is still blurry. I suppose the party was good – like all the ones you don't remember afterwards.

I blink a few times in my mind and don't actually bother to engage my body in the physical effort of doing so. The imagined movement seems to be slowly making its way through the fog of whiskey…There was a lot of whiskey…and a lot of people. Come to think of it, my girl was there too.
But then She came – floating past me like a VMW past a rusty road sign, leaving me sipping some O2 from the glass I hadn't even filled yet. Irritating. I had lost sight of her in the crowd so I decided  I might as well go and find where my liquid gold was hiding. The whiskey flowed.
Later on I found myself sitting on the back porch of the house, sipping my drink and catching a note or two from the song which the guitar dude was playing somewhere in the other part of the house. The summer breeze was stably losing its innocence, whispering a subtle warning of the upcoming storm. I sat in the dark listening to the voices of the night. At that point some noise from the window behind me caught my attention. Door handle. Fabric rubbing against fabric. The guitar letting out an unamused  moan for being so carelessly dropped on the floor. A sigh. And then another. Good for the guitar dude…
The downpour is just picking up speed. The screams of those who got the cold shower in the front yard have settled down and given way to giggles of amusement inside the house.
I stand up and start walking around. The door opens and She comes out. She walks towards the railing and lights a cigar, looking at the rain – not even a glance at me. 'Do you ever think about how much of this is even real?' she asks with her back towards me.
I lean against the wall, trying to help the question sail through the whiskey river to the isle of "Brain."

A cloud of smoke exits stage right and gets lost in the darkness.

With a single move she turns around and comes closer – her eyes looking into mine. Another step and our lips meet. I hold on to my glass as if, and probably because, it's the only thing keeping me from tumbling down right now. Her lips are cold. The static charge of the storm seems to pulse through them. Her eyes sink inside mine. I feel the whiskey in my vains burst aflame. I see her go down as if in slow motion. I'm a pile of ashes and the wind scatters me around. She Is the storm...
Later on…the entrance to my apartment. Complete darkness, only brief screams of static light piercing the sky, crashing down to become one with the dark ground. I struggle between the ecstasy of the darkness and the hope for just another brief second of light to chase the lines of her skin once more… I can't quite remember who I am…Who cares…

I open my eyes once again. For real this time. Still raining. The eyes are on me again, with a little sparkle of laughter hidden behind the dark lashes.
The voice machine on my night table awakens with a squeakish sound, still too unbearable for my consciousness. I close my eyes in agony. My torturer assumes the voice of my girl and sings out: 'Hey there…everything okey? They told me you walked off in the downpour last night. Call me.'
'With her, not in her…' I think to myself and I open my eyes again. The windowpane is empty. I make the sacrifice of really blinking this time, several times. Dull expression on my face. I'm too tired to think whether I prefer her to be suicidal or me to be hallucinating. I just lay back down and look at the sky.

Still raining.

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(This story is my creation, please do not use it without my permission ^_^)