“Oh....it was my mother.” I feel chills run down his appendages and his arms grow goosebumps. I cease my questions and he leans against my shoulder, even though I can’t really support him. He’s only a few inches taller and his head lays against mine. We are two tangible puzzles and I wish I could live in this moment.
I can’t though. It’s too intimate and he releases the pressure on my cranium. He gently leads me by the wrist, slightly tugging at first. He closes the van doors, first the left then the right. He brings me to a huge house or at least it looks like it, with a hilly driveway. We walk slowly up, our aching muscles unlocking themselves from each other. Once we get past the entrance, the entire place reveals itself like a mental institution. There are whitewashed walls and clean tiled floors. It smells too antibacterial in here. I find it ironic how that bleach smell only makes a place dirtier in perspective, for what they must they bleach? He brings me to the very back of this maze. I face a silver door, most likely soundproof. He faces me, tiny bits of pleasure in his arm and face.
“Goodnight Tarae,” he says with a slight grin.
I am taken aback. I make sure no one knows my name. Especially strangers.
He laughs and answers the question on my face. “You talk in your sleep,” he jauntily replies, with a smile.
I release a sigh of frustration. He giggles himself to bits at my reaction.
“Yeah yeah, very funny.” I try to make my face stern and to crumple my eyebrows together.
“Oh, relax. I didn’t hear much,” he adds with a wink. I throw my hands in the air and he unlocks the door, having a miniature fit. He shuts it quietly after me. I hear the tumblers fall into place and finally turn around from the door after I realize I had been staring.