The crisp morning air from a late August cold snap, rustled the thin satin curtains, just enough for a glint of sun to poke through and illuminate the beauty of her glistening skin. Soft and tanned, it stretched perfectly over her toned frame, and smelt like the lavender which grew wildly in the surrounding French countryside. Sensing the slight breeze against her bare shoulder, Michelle snuggled even closer into the nape of my neck, her long dark hair tickling my chin, her warm breath teasing my senses.

“I love you John Coventry. I will love you forever.”

I enveloped her words with my lips as she slithered her frame on top of mine, our bodies meshed together in an absence of time and space. Her beating heart pulsed against my chest, igniting my blood in a firestorm, as it raced to my own heart, forging our love and making us one. At that moment, nothing else mattered. I was exactly where I was supposed to be, where I needed to be, where I wanted to be.

Sitting on the nightstand, and cast in the shadow of the rising sun was a single bearded iris drooped lifelessly over the side of a tall glass vase, its brilliant royal blue petals distressed and aching for a drink. A small crack originating from a chip in the rim of the vase threatened to snake its way to the base, thwarted only by a thick layer of dust and grime. The room was past its prime. Flakes of paint hung perilously from the yellowing walls and the old, hand fashioned doorframes were wrought with chinks and chips, holding memories of all those who had stumbled through on their way to somewhere else.

I had no idea how long Michelle had lived at the farmhouse or if she even considered it her permanent address. I had my doubts. Besides some clothes shoved in a few of the drawers, and a scattering of toiletries perched on the chest, there were no discernable signs of any sort of permanence. No pictures or memorabilia, not even a postcard from a long-lost cousin wishing her Merry Christmas. It was as if she only existed in the here and now, which although unnerving, was fine by me, because in the now, she was in my arms and kissing my lips. She was a ghost, moving through life with no footprints, except the ones she left on my heart.

“How about we just stay right here,” I said stroking the side of her soft cheek with the backs of my fingers. “Who would miss us?”

Michelle laughed then bolted upright, shattering the tender moment. “Was that a car door?”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” I answered.

She jumped from the bed and ran to the window, throwing back the curtain, exposing her nakedness to the world below. “He’s back!”

“Who’s back?” “No time to talk! Have you seen my shirt?” She scrambled about the room, searching for the clothes we tore off last night. “Who’s back Michelle?” I said throwing my legs off the side of the bed.

“No, no John, you stay here. It’s just business.” She put her hand to her mouth, blew me a kiss, and darted out the bedroom door, her feet pounding down the old wooden stairs.

I never knew what to expect from Michelle. One minute she would be in my arms, the next she’d be off, caught up in her cause. I never understood her reasoning, and she could never convince me that her politics were just. Her dedication was frightening; obsessive to the point where I knew I mattered, but was definitely not her first priority. The pain of that realization stung deep, like an open wound never quite able to heal. Our lives could be so much more, if only she’d open her eyes and see the possibilities. I wanted more, she wanted what we had, and there was no compromise, no moving forward. As much as I hated the situation, I would make the sacrifice. Snippets of time with Michelle were my salvation, and in the craziness of my world, I needed all the salvation I could find.