After dinner, sitting in the expansive dinning room, I began to wish for some time alone. Angela had not left my side for days now. When we ate, we dined as royalty. My body had returned to a more normal appearance. I appeared now as if I had simply been successful in re-sculpting my body and adding a few pounds of muscle, and had grown accustomed to managing my new senses. With little effort I could balance my heightened sensitivities to dismiss any over stimulation. I could move through the tasks of each day with a high degree of normalcy. Yet, increasingly I was feeling restless. I began to think of my small country house, my familiar surroundings – the view from my den window, the smell of the smoldering fire in the morning, the beep of my answering machine – and my thoughts returned to Kelly.

I stood from my seat and walked over behind Angela. Silently I shared by thoughts, as had now become our way of talking,

I’m thinking of going home to look over my things.

Perhaps it would be a good idea, Angela replied. You should begin to let go of that life. Your new life is just beginning, but you will soon discover, as it was with me, that the life of normal people is too limited for you. It is good that we have each other.

Angela stood and turned to embrace me. I felt the wonderful warmth of her arms slide under mine and wrap around my waist. She leaned on me and sighed as she closed her eyes and rested her face on my chest. The gentle layers of her short hair felt soft against my chin. It was then that I sensed it. It was nothing more substantial than a passing aroma, as faint as the brush of a gentle breeze as the weather begins to change. It faded as soon as it came, but I knew then that it was there. Within her was something hidden, something much more. Up until this point I had simply told myself we had found in each other the passion and sensuality that we both needed. My mind had not been able to grasp the now haunting truth. The pieces fell in to place, locking together in an incomplete, but discernable image, an incomplete jig-saw. Somehow I knew, this had all been a carefully orchestrated plan. I had been hunted and captured. I had also been a willing captive. Yet, the truth beyond this had brushed my awareness. There was something else, a shadow of sorts that Angela held within her toward me. I knew that I needed to get away.

I will leave tomorrow. I need to arrange some of my affairs and tie up some loose ends; I shared my thoughts with her.

Her response was brief, I’ll go with you.

No. I think I would like to go alone. It won’t take me long, and there is no point in dragging you away. I know you and Charles have more work to do. No doubt I have kept you to myself too long.

I hugged her firmly and smiled. I gently bent my mind to hers. It had become our way, this bending, the invitation to the other to open and allow passage through feelings and thoughts into the deepest of connections. Every time the sensations where beyond words. The closest thing I had previously known to this is that illusive moment of creative bliss when the work of the artist finds form for creative passion - when the words inscribed upon the page, or the sculptured stone so precisely reflect the purest of human truth that the artist transcends the normal moment and touches the realm of the spirit. So, I paused and waited her response.

She giggled and kissed me. “Go ahead and go,” she spoke out load. “It is necessary for you. I can see that know. Go, Evan Palmer, go. I will be here when you return.”

She spoke this with complete certainty. She turned and walked out of the room, and as she left, so did all of her thoughts, feelings, and being. Nothing was open to me. She had closed me out, completely.

I felt strange instantly. I felt alone, truly alone. (to be continued)