Prologue: The Faltering Raindrops, The Ethereal Clouds

You’re spinning. Spinning on your toes, with your arms out, wrists up. And it’s like you’re surrendering to something. Maybe the sky. To the rain that is dripping too slowly from an almost blue sky. And if this rain was a feeling, it’d be the ache of regret.

You’re spinning and I can barely watch. Can’t drag my eyes away. You’re like a tiny bead of life. A dandelion or a sycamore seed, twisting endlessly beneath the ethereal clouds. And I know that at any moment you’ll have to stop. Your arms will drop, you’ll fall and catch your breath. You’ll see me watching, the rain clouding my eyes, blurring your whirling form.

And you’ll know my face. Know the expression that burns beneath my skin. The fractured mask, steady blankness. The determination to feel nothing.

You’re spinning. Spiralling on pointed toes, kissed by the faltering raindrops.