Continued From “Desire!”
There was commotion within the First House after the surprise distress call right in the middle of the night…
He sat at the edge of the bed, half-dressed, staring at the dresser, his teary eyes staring forth, robbed of all expression…
“Nothing, really. I just think some handshakes are longer rather more personal than others. So are some stares…Oh! There it goes again the river!” …
It was dawning on us with incredible detail, the First Room, the nerve centre of the Nation’s moral decorum was playing host to an unusual guest this eventful evening.
At my counterpart’s knowing nod, the four of us hurriedly streamed out of the room. Memories of the intrigues inside the ball room that curious summer evening two years earlier were still vividly replaying in my mind. I recalled how he, clad in his dark shiny black three-piece had cracked my ribs with thrilling forecasts on future civilizations under the reign of this species-a fusion between a superior gene of the Dryopithecus and an extraterrestrial organism from a yet to be discovered planet that would be the marvel of the astronomical sphere. This race would sparkle as epitome of all intelligence. As a chemical warfare resistant breed, it would apparently spearhead the ultimate conquest in space travel in formidable revolution. Reminiscing his account driven home with such incredible gusto; his eyes tucked under the dark sleek night vision goggles triggered a chuckle from deep within my bowels.
Still, there had been many curious hide and seek aspects that had remained unresolved in my mind. The distinct throbbing river that seemingly kept growing in intensity had for instance dominated the content of our discussion that evening. Then there had of course been that distinct moment of personal handshakes, which seemed to strike a chord within me as well, probably the sole moment the two of us had operated on the same plane that evening. Something told me it had raised more than four eyebrows within the room that night.
I paused as a flashback of my colleague and I storming inside the bedroom hit me hard. There he was, rolling rapidly on the floor before me, then the blurred image as she swiftly pulled some bedding over herself. I found myself increasingly fighting a growing intensity within me recalling the scene around the military officials flanked by their spouses on the evening of the coveted annual ball hosted by the C in C.
“You see!” Pointed my counterpart emphatically as we casually made our way down to the cellar, his pointed leather shoes an amplification of his characteristic comical self.
“It is always a matter of time. There is no problem with the point of contact because that’s a democratic right reserved for sight. She can be excused if and when she progresses to take one. Muster the state of affairs in stimuli while you still can for at take two, things are accelerating the wrong direction past the point of no return. Just remember, at peak, nothing will stand on its way…the mighty sweep of the river; its damage colossal, scope collateral.
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