Contained neatly within an office window seven storeys high,
It's early Monday morning.
One by one florescent lights flood each flank as the cleaners, weary before the day begins, begin their day.
Outside, it’s unusually dark - the dregs of the moon and a December sun still to surface.
An untimely storm rages
All flashes of lightening,
swooping, serpentine trees
and a ferocious rain.
It doesn't look very much like Monday morning.
They are both early today.
She has the desk by the window.
He, one with a partial view of her.
In the quietness of the office slowly humming to life, the winds howling outside,
it seems there is no longer any space to hide.
He brings her a coffee and they both go stand at the window.
An opportune crack of lightning and her fingers rest lightly on his arm.
The hair at the back of his neck stands.
They are close enough to breathe through each other’s skin
but to him, a chasm yawns between them.
All that he wants to say to her is on the other side and for that he must leap,
knowing he may never find a way back.
He stares out at the waning storm and wills his courage to gather when
she says, softly but with a quiet resolve,
there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.
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