Greetings and salutations!
Oh no, not this again! February, can’t you let me sleep in peace? Tella pleaded, tossing and turning. February lingered in the dim light, a ghostly presence drawing ever closer, pressing her to unveil the secrets of her heart. “Do you love me? Because my admiration for you knows no bounds.”
“Shush, February! Don’t muddle our connection with human emotions. You are perfect just as you are in my mind. You never hurt me; you love me in my quiet, awkward ways,” Tella rebuffed. “Now, please, go get busy. I’d like to catch some Z’s.”
But February chortled softly, “You know my duties begin the moment you drift off. My thoughts of you keep me awake; I only want your happiness and protection. But…”
“But what?” Tella snapped, her irritation flaring.
“I desire your presence at all times, your love returned to me,” February murmured, his head hung low, searching for comforting words in the labyrinth of Tella’s conservative heart. He wrestled with the duality of her existence, one governed by societal expectations and the other, a wild, untamed spirit longing to connect.
What February failed to grasp was the essence of Tella’s being. His near-constant hover around her chamber was more than a search for answers; it was a dance with his own doubts. He feared that she clung to him only to siphon his energy, her delicate femininity seeking refuge against a world that permitted only the most balanced of women to thrive beyond middle age. Despite the turmoil within, his love for her burned brightly, an unwavering shield he longed to offer.
With eyes fierce as flames, Tella awoke to find February looming above her. Yet, in an instant, her fury dissolved into tranquility, like lava meeting the cool embrace of the ocean. That love, so frustrating at times, was a soothing balm against her restless heart. As February’s gaze met hers, calm washed over her, an iceberg in a turbulent sea.
Another sleepless midnight stretched before them, Tella’s heart racing under the weight of responsibilities left unfulfilled, her energy entwined with February’s restless existence. Their midnight dance continued, an ironic tale living on the edge of slumber, until exhaustion finally threatened to draw her under. Yet, for once, the battery of her spirit held strong, denying the quietude typically enforced by sleep.
As dawn approached, illuminating the room with golden threads, February reveled in the new light. He gazed longingly at the mirror, but found no reflection to answer him. “Don’t look!” Tella cried, “Look at me! I am real, you are real, and everything outside is but a mirage. Our love is the essence of reality.”
But then came the dreary sound of a dying battery, PEEP, PEEP.
And just like that, February vanished, swallowed by the silence of morning.
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