The Lovers by Allan Cho

anna cho for the lovers

Illustration by Anna Cho

The sun twilighted the atmosphere, substituted with a fresh coat of rain which liquidated the streets. The man and his lover immunized their bodies from the wetness in a telephone booth, waiting for the rain to cease. Impatiently, they slipped out of the tiny coffin and bathed the streets, hand-in-hand, till sunrise.

Dawn christened them as they scissored across Casanova Avenue and reached their destination, cafe Romeo, located on the corner of Paramour and Don Juan. they entered and shed their skin of rain coats with a sigh of relief.

He turned and whispered, “I feel like a criminal.”
A faint smile unravelled from the corner of his lover’s mouth. Breakfasting, they aimlessly sipped their cappuccinos, and concentrated on thinking about nothing. The man twisted his head a few degrees and noticed he was standing outside the cafe, erect, barren of life, and filled with anger and envy. They were being watched.
The man clutched his partner’s wrist and together, they evaded through the backdoor, abandoning Holst’s philharmonic vibrations of The Planets to echo in the background.

The swam the streets as the painting of colours melted into the shadows from the fluorescence. It started to rain again as an explosion of thunder aroused the skies and revealed its silver-blue veins. A bus slowly kissed the curb, and mechanically devoured the long queue. Umbrellaed by the vehicle, and hidden from view, they melded into each other’s arms – their minds quarantined.

From the corner of his eyes, the man saw that he was still in pursuit, pushing through the network of bystanders, racing with the bus. They watched and saw that he eventually demagnified, vanished from view. He watched his partner smile, triggering laughter, he pleasured in his lover’s ocean of unpremeditation and spontaneity. A dictionary of expressions. A thesaurus of emotions. The illumination of the ovaltine sky showered them with a delightful ambience. An aroma of perfume morphined the air. His lover felt weary through all the fatigue. The man cupped his arms, sculpting a saddle-shaped throne for his companion to sit on.

The man paused and glared at his lover’s frame, “You are so beautiful.” His lover blushed, embarrassed by such unexpected adoration.

“Thank you,” he replied.

They embraced, translating into the woods, fading from sight, swallowed by the obscurity of nothingness.

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