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A gust of cold wind burst through the vehicle, upsetting everything in its path. However, the young woman took her time pushing her golden hair back into place. Several strands lingered on her dry lips before relinquishing to her insistence. It had taken her at least 10 minutes before she had even turned off the car; she wondered how long it had been since. It was late afternoon and the day’s heat had not yet subsided, but the sun’s strength was waning.
As though on impulse, her small, shaking hands threw open the door and her pale legs led the rest of her body in a quick leap from the car. She slammed the door shut with the full force of her frail figure. Falling back onto the warm metal, the girl put her hand to her heart and felt a furious, timid drumming. She released the breath she’d been holding and attempted calming herself with controlled meditative breaths. Mouth shut. Breathing in through the nose. Filling the hollow void inside with more emptiness. Breathing out through the nose, squeezing and wringing out the poisoned dead air. Eyes closed. In through the nose. Out through the nose. In and then out. In and then out. The calming rhythm had replaced the nervous, unsteady tempo with one much more akin to a master’s unwavering staccato.
Snapping her back to reality was a cruel and fiercely frigid wind slapping at her face, causing her white cheeks to turn a brilliant shade of crimson. Her thin cardigan did little to protect her; the nearly transparent gauze of her skirt easily submitted to the chill. She shivered and gazed cautiously at the cemetery gates. The wind was Lara Travesti far too cold for such a warm day and it did little to ease the ominous tension growing in her stomach.
The increasing sickness in her gut brought back a flood of memories, as well as a sudden desire to vomit. These memories had been dammed up inside her mind for a year now, but there was no controlling the relentless white water of emotions consuming her. A wave of sorrow knocked her back: they would never be together again. A wave of hatred pushed her around: he was reckless and knew how dangerous it was. A wave of desperation dragged her down. A wave of desire floated her to the surface. A wave of happiness carried her towards shore. A wave of reality knocked her unconscious. She had died that day; today she was drowning.
In the absence of any reality, her feet had followed the urging push of the wind; deviating from the winding pebble road and stopping at their destination. The wind grew restless as it waited for her to acknowledge her surroundings, erupting in flurries in every direction possible. Slowly her senses began to return. The faint scents of blossoming spring buds mixed with decaying floral arrangements as they seeped into her nose. A soothing song of birds celebrating the new season echoed in her ears with cries of mourning. Salty wetness from her tears soaked onto her lips and tongue like a bad margarita. Her trance had seemed to heighten her senses, but the wind was selfish and worked hard to be the only thing she was aware of; a spiteful squall forced her once again to Manavgat travesti pay attention.
She kneeled onto the lush green grass to prevent herself from falling; she had not realized her legs had become so weak until she tried to step back from his headstone. The cold, hard marble melted her anger and resentment the longer she stared at it. Her heart seemed to be tearing apart, but she knew this was not possible; it had been shattered a year ago. She knew it could never be repaired. The wind was howling in her ear with unbridled fury and hostility, shrieking like a wife whose husband had not come home for dinner, but had instead been with another woman. It seemed a fitting punishment to her for her avoidance in coming here.
It was unclear whether her voice had been audible or merely obscured by the wind, but her lips, cracked and rough, formed the answer she had waited so long to say. “Yes, I will be yours forever.” Her skeletal hand slid the dainty ring from her finger; the sun hit the diamond’s facets to reflect a brief rainbow prism in her dull grey eyes. The wind’s howl faded to a contented sigh and caressed her cheek as she buried the ring close to the marble’s base. She tried to breathe but felt entirely incapable. Sensing her sorrow, the wind wrapped itself around her in a comforting hug, squeezing a gasp of air out of her lungs.
If she could have answered him, even to say she didn’t know what to say, would he have gone? If she only could have found the courage to say yes, would she be kneeling at his side rather than his grave? She hadn’t Side travesti feared losing him; she had expected it- but not that soon. But now she understood; now she was ready. Her love for him had finally overcome her fear of losing him.
A refreshing feeling shook her from yet another trance, releasing her from everything she had gripped on to for the past year. The setting sun seemed to be brighter, as though it were rising in protest of having to allow the moon its control. The bells of a nearby church chimed happily. She inhaled the freshness of the earth on her hands. Mouth shut. In through the nose. Out through the nose.
Warmth returned to the wind as it playfully danced up her thighs and across her chest. The girl smiled as she leaned back, allowing her fine hair to drape onto the ground like a waterfall of silk. Her cardigan slipped from her shoulders to reveal the soft white skin of her breasts, but she did not move to fix it. The wind lifted her skirt to expose a garden of black curls; with heavy breath it teased her slowly. In response, her hips rose and her legs widened. As the skirt began to fall back to its proper place, the wind rushed to push it back up. The ruffled edges began to fall once more, but not before the wind could sneak in a quick kiss between her thighs. Unhurriedly the wind moved up her body, caressing every curve with the gentleness of an attentive lover. It lingered in the mess of her hair, trying in vain to untangle the knots it had caused and whispered into her ear the words she longed to hear.
Mouth shut, she breathed in through her nose, warming the butterflies back into their home. Breathing out through the nose. Eyes shut; she gazed into the face of her lover. In through the nose. Out through the nose. In through the nose. Out through the nose. She smiled as her guilt drifted away with the wind.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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