Eleven Read online

  I tell myself that had we ended up together, things would have become mundane. The familiar routine of marriage would have dulled the passion we once felt. The burdens of everyday life would have caused the magic to fade into reality. I have to tell myself that every time I think of him. I can’t bear to think of it any other way.

  Seemingly occupied with the warm water running over my hands onto the dishes, I stare out into the night sky. A gentle rain is falling outside. That familiar ache stirs in me. I close my eyes, trying to find the strength to stop the thought of him from invading my mind. My breath is caught in my throat as I feel a tingling pain sear all the way through the tips of my fingers as I hold back the tears welling up inside of me.

  I wonder—is he going through this, too? Does he ever think of me? Do pangs of my memory hit him and leave him breathless and empty? Are we somewhere in that other universe; where the gossamer threads of our desire intertwine and we lose ourselves to one another in an eternal kiss?

  So many years have already gone by without our paths ever crossing again. How many more will I endure with only the memory of those eleven rare, precious days with him to spare me from an existence without the truest passion known? He once knocked upon the door of my soul with his kiss. I answered. Long since shackled and hidden is that door. But his memory, my most tortuous comfort, remains secure in the depths of that most secret place.

  © Karen S. Rodgers

  Karen S. Rodgers Publishing

  Meadow, Texas 79345

  Thursday, February 21, 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author and publisher, Karen S. Rodgers, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.