Questions

He was so gangly and so...white. A chicken, a cackling rooster more often than not.

And yet his skin smelt of the desert sun, his locks of tobacco and asphalt. Long miles of dusty roads haunted every glance.

How had he remained free? Soaring like a hawk, riding the thermals, trusting instinct and fate in a way that appeared almost masterful.

Yearning to merge with the glorious creature, to view the world from such dizzying heights, Amal ignored the voices demanding he tie the jesses and hang on tight.

But weren't souls meant to be fettered?

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Amal was the color of coffee with lots of cream and too much sugar. Candy coffee, like they sold in those over-priced, name brand joints. But considering that's how TJ liked it, Amal's skin required tasting, tempting him to drink his fill, lapping up every drop of the sweet reward.

Something more kept him lingering at the counter, plaguing the waitress for another refill. The guy had been loved. Clear enough. Roots, family...the solidity radiated out of him great and oaken. So strong and sheltering, it made TJ's lofty aerie seem lonesome and over-exposed to nature's callous whims.

He knew how to do it. Be Here Now. But Amal was evoking What Ifs and Tomorrows. Wary of cages no matter how gilded, he scorched, seared and shook the guy to his foundations, trying to mold him into something more familiar. Unsuccessful, the challenge taunted, do you want to win or lose?

Demanding and enthusiastic, Amal spurred him on. Each time had to be the best because it might be last—would be the last, soon enough.

"Was it okay?" he whispered afterward, knowing the answer but finding comfort in the old habit.

"It?" Amal turned in his arms, dark eyes ever threatening to lure his soul into depths unknown. "Teej. You're okay."

Taken aback, his heart soared as bating wings silently folded for one more night.

end