You slowly turn your face towards me while you lazily stretch on the bed. The diamond in your ear catches fire and your open eye answers the call, blazing back with equal brilliance. I cannot see your other eye as only a part of your face is visible. The other part of your face is hidden behind a crease on the sheet.
You have closed your other eye - the one that is invisible to me. How much do you hide in your shut eye? How many dreams, joys, heartbreaks and longings play a symphony in your being? Even this perfect moment of existence has a thin, sharp edge of pain surrounding it. But, isn't that what makes it so perfect?
You push a strand of your curly, brown hair off your forehead. "Burgundy" you insist on calling them. Not brown, Burgundy! Do you remember the time when curly, brown hair were decidedly out of vogue? Oh the fights you had with your mother when she tried, in vain, to smear them with oil and yank and pull at them so that they fit in a pair of stringy little braids! Then there was your Grandmother, who insisted on calling them a 'bush'; in singular; much to your chagrin.
These days, you are envied for your hair. Now, you proudly let them hang down your shoulders in shiny ringlets. Every time you hear a compliment, as you shake your head just slightly to bounce them, do you remember your childhood woe? As you lay in front of me, one arm stretched above your head, the ringlets fall gently on your arm and luxuriously surround your head.
I look at your face and, once more, admire your healthy, glowing skin. That is another one of your proud possessions. You wear no makeup, and strongly believe you don't need any. However, as I go over each of your features, I see nothing special. At least, nothing that would fit in the traditional definition of beauty. But there is something arresting in your face, a quality so flitty, so surreal, yet so bewitching. The blazing diamond in your ear gives it an ethereal edge, so does the mischief in your eyes.
Then my eyes moved down your body. Your shoulders are hidden, but a little bit of your smooth skin shows through the neck of your shirt. A thin golden chain in your neck sparkles to make a statement. The silhouette of your breasts is just perfect and that reminds me of how you graduated from an awkward teenage hunch to a proud posture of a woman who is comfortable with her body. Your shirt has gone up just slightly at your waist and I can see a little bit of your belly. Oh how you wish it were flatter! But fear not, for I cannot see it from here, the sheet rescues you one more time and the curve of your waist looks just as perfect. Your well toned buttocks curve gently at your back and end in strong and shapely legs that stretch down to your soft little feet. You stretch your feet just a little to point your toes, and your legs look beautiful.
Then I look at your eyes and realize that you have been observing me from head to toe just as I have been observing you. You have the same appreciative smile on your face as I have on mine. I wonder for how long we lay there face to face, looking at each other unabashedly, and enjoying the view. You and I - Sisters, Clones, Reflections, Duplicates - bound to each other in an eternal bonding; each watching the other from her side of the mirror. Narcissism? Maybe! But so what?This is supposed to be the perfect, perfect moment, remember?
But then its time; its been too long. Laying idle is not my style and there are many, many things to be done yet. I have to move on, but you? You have a choice. As I roll up and stretch to embrace the next moment in life, you choose to cling on to the joyous one that we just lived together. You lay still, beautiful and satisfied, on the bed and slowly, in front of my eyes, turn into a precious crystal that is to be preserved and revered for the rest of my life. I look at you and smile fondly, but turn away and, slowly, move on. So long, dearest - my perfect, perfect memory!