Simon awoke no differently to any other day; alone, cold, clueless. Clouds of recent slumber still blurred his vision and his heart sang the same tune to his head, 'what now'? Reluctantly he swung his long lanky legs from the bed and whipped back his blankets, revealing his nakedness to a cold world of reality. What had he heard yesterday? That's right, the old man mountain climber, "I truly feel the present when I climb mountains. I feel the 'now'. That's passion. That's life."
"Fool." He spat out aloud, a little more harshly than intended. Simon didn't really think the man was a fool, just his perception of life. So withdrawn now in his thirty odd years in this world it was impossible for him to see anything optimistically, not like those freaks who run around hugging trees and kissing babies, telling the world how great it is to be alive then blowing the head off a guy at an intersection for not letting them merge. Or the Sunday church lovers; lovers of Christ, lovers of life, lovers of thy neighbour whenever hubby isn't around, spraying themselves over each other in a dance of sin. They have no idea on true love. Love delivers, love is, love drives, love heals. Karen had shown him the truth in all these. So many years had passed since their meeting and, eventually, marriage, and still Simon gets anxious immediately before Karen would enter the room, twitching, shuffling, hearing her footfalls and standing to greet her, as if he could, in some way, measure up to the beauty of her being. Simon had known a few women, became close to even fewer, none of whom had inspired him the way Karen does.
But she wasn't here now. Again, he was alone, alone and cold. "Get dressed you bloody idiot" he scolded himself. With heavy limbs and a weary heart, Simon Vale met the new day, one leg at a time.
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