Skyscraper

by elena minor

Solemn. Eyes looked carefully but were unable to penetrate for meaning. So it was. Once it wouldn't have been so, Adrian thought. Once the eyes would have seen all.

The eyes were brown, almost black, and unspectacular. Evelina wondered if they had ever shown desire or want of any kind. She knew they'd never known fineness. It was painful to look, and the more she tried not to, the more she did, as if she had no will or a will determined to subvert. She was standing in a vast room and it was swirls of punctuated gray, but through the windows there was light from outside all around, as if to compensate or apologize. The carpet was a plush uneasy beige and she felt its discomfort, so she looked away from there.

There were no shades or blinds, but there were curtains. They were white. Adrian liked white but curtains made him uneasy. Their camouflage was difficult to penetrate. He was hot in his navy blue suit with maroon tie and he blamed the white curtains. He felt as if he were going to choke, and being on the verge of anything was always unsettling for him. He could never admit it. He didn't want Evelina to look and see. Through the windows and past his likeness he could see the tops of buildings and their mirrored sides; he was too far away to see below where he knew there was concrete and noise and potted trees.

Evelina had worn the yellow dress hoping to stave off the bitter hunger that seemed not to want to leave and now reflected off her eyes into a viscous distance that was too far away to follow. Eyes were liars anyway. She regretted not having worn the red dress. She tried to look at everything several times and not get caught, but it couldn't be avoided. Adrian would see sooner or later. She'd have to move around the room to kill time. The white-gray haze that hovered between and masked the tops of buildings held her attention for a few moments—long enough to wring a sigh from her.

Adrian held out a glass of white wine but Evelina didn't take it. She stood too close to a large window, staring hard through it, as if absorbed by a fierce effort—as if willing an azure sky. He started when the white curtains rustled gently. He hoped the recoil was imperceptible. Evelina didn't seem to have noticed the motion. She hadn't moved away from the window and he still held the glass of white wine. Mild tremors shook its pale contents.

The cool air seems to calm him, thought Evelina.

The glass is sweating, thought Adrian .