[ Long that silence stretches, long that silence stares. Loud that silence beats into a place between worlds, between life. Whether it is Gilia's heart or another could not be said, it is her voice, it is a thousand other voices, and it is always, always, that silence. Where she, herself, begins to almost dissolve in his arms in that strange another form, ephemerally slip to the place where even his hands did not touch, if he held a little tighter, it threatened, he would plunge straight through that shallow depth of woman to dark waters.
That finds the correctness in that response and settles, and at last - the rattling of the water, where the sink overruns, and pools water to the floor in a thin sheen, the aching groans of the internal pipework of the house rushing with such force, the bubbling over stove - all settle. All silence themselves.
Until there is nothing left, but those quiet sobs she takes on his shoulder, sagging exhausted into him. ]
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That finds the correctness in that response and settles, and at last - the rattling of the water, where the sink overruns, and pools water to the floor in a thin sheen, the aching groans of the internal pipework of the house rushing with such force, the bubbling over stove - all settle. All silence themselves.
Until there is nothing left, but those quiet sobs she takes on his shoulder, sagging exhausted into him. ]