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By Sejong1446 (sejong1446@yahoo.ca)


Kuala Lampur in the summertime – the heat is infernal and yet strangely comforting. There is a special resonance to summer that is not felt at any other time of year. It drains you of your energy and you willingly allow this – helpless to fight the oppressive humidity. I stare into oblivion as the heat haze shimmers off of the worn gauze curtains, swaying to and fro with the summer mistral.

On the balcony, I slouch in my ragged rattan chair that embraces me like an old leather glove. The day is old, and yet my perspiration beads and ebbs in concert with the sweat on my glass of ice water. Such bliss... such relaxation... watching strange people and choking cars race back and forth as if they are all part of giant bee hive – scattering here and there, and back again. And yet, without effort, neither screaming children nor blaring horns can stop me from drifting off – remembering days – of love, romance, friendship and unrestrained passion.

I cannot recall how long I have been here – days at least by the course grizzle of beard developing on my face. My white linen shirt is damp from the humidity of false expectations – or so I tell myself. I have come for her – telling myself over and over again – convincing myself that travelling half way around the world for my one love was the only thing I could have done... proving that my love for her is boundless.

The sun slowly drifts beyond the horizon and is replaced by the brilliance of the full moon... the never-ending battle of light and darkness is won this night by the forces of light. I wait for the lunar god to take its place in the sky, and then without asking, striking moonbeams dance curiously against the gritty walls of my hotel room. And out the glimmer of my eyes, I can almost see her face against the tapered drapery. Such beauty, such beauty... my heart pounds mercilessly against my heaving chest... anxiety and desire all wound up into one impulsive emotion.

I walk over to the basin of water left by the porter. A quick splash on the face, and through my hair... refreshed I tell myself in this tropical sauna... and in a trance like state I walk over to the door. Then suddenly, before I can reach out to turn the handle, a faint knock rattles my nerves. Who knows I am here?

Eternal moments pass before a second knock startles me into action. I turn the handle and incandescent light from the hallway floods my vision to the point of disorientation.

"Sir," the porter asks, "Are you ok? Apologies if I startled you sir."

"What is it?" I reply, still adjusting to the hallway light.

"A message for you sir," he says handing me a piece of paper.

I grab the piece of paper like I am stealing a toy from a child, and close the door without granting any thanks.

I walk back to the balcony, message crumpled in my hand, and stare aimlessly at the street below. Why am I scared to read it... too scared to even open it... ? But common sense prevails and I tell myself it is just a routine message from home. So slowly, I open it, averting my eyes until it is fully open, and easily read by the brilliant moon.

Darling,

Welcome to heaven. Meet me tomorrow in the memorial gardens, by the fountain at 1:30pm.

Me.

My heart races. Passion swallows me whole. I lean on the balcony railing for support, only to watch the note slip from my hand and float like a feather to the ground below. No matter, I tell myself. Exhilaration floods through my veins... nerves of steel erode to dust. And the angry moon exposes me in all my nakedness.