the gilded spectrum transit [a serial] chapter 1

A bright, brisk winter morning crept over the mountain and danced across our town until it fell at the foot of my bed. Tossing sleep aside, I abruptly sat upright. At the threshold of there and here I was always the most conscious of my task. It throbbed within me like a second heart, only deeper and more steadily.

He still wasn’t awake. I bent towards him and nudged his handsome face with my cold nose. ‘Wakie, wakie,’ I whispered and gave his scruffy cheek an exaggerated lick. I couldn’t help it. He was always my favorite human. Even now, with all we know, all we do, I can’t get enough of his hands on my waist.

He groaned away the night and stretched his machine of a body. Knowing my inclination to hit the ground running, he aroused quickly to the here and now, and directed his strong arms to dart out, seize me, and pull me into his bare chest. The same thud, call, ache beat miles below its surface.

How did we find each other?

That’s another story that’s not yet or quite relevant.

And we must stay relevant.

Time, imaginary little thing that it is, only stays on our side with the diligent application of intentional relevance.

Write that down.

You’ll need it.