7

Iwoke up in the middle of the night when something feathery tickled under my nose. Realization came to me slowly, like a seaweed rising to the surface of the ocean. Hair. Long, soft hair. I blinked a few times, and there she was—Nepheli, curled inside my arms. Her fingers had dug deep into my back. Her face was pressed into my chest. Her knees were tangled between my own. She smelled of magic and wildflowers, and I felt like basking in the sun.

Something that resembled panic overcame me, for how lovely the pressure of her body was, how comforting it felt to be bathing in each other's warmth, and how perfectly our limps were locked together, in all the right ways and in all the right places.

Or perhaps all bodies fit like this, and I'd simply forgotten. When was the last time I'd stayed around long enough to sleep the entire night next to a woman anyway? Six years? Five? It was impossible to remember.

I slipped out of the bed as stealthily as I could and threw another log into the hearth to keep the fire going before I stepped towards the one window of the room. The glass was fogged, and I had to rub my shirtsleeve over it a few times to take a look outside. The night was cold, but beautiful. The mountains dreaming beneath their verdant covers in the moonlit distance, the giant trees wavering under the wind, the dragonflies flickering like the lights of a faraway city, the sky rolling out in a buttery, delicious shade of plum, and the stars… well, the stars…

I stole a glance at Nepheli, her silver silhouette aglow in the night. She looked like a star, too. Something you could bestow your most unutterable wishes on. Something you wanted to believe in. Something you knew you couldn't ever have.

Or at least that was how she looked to a man like me.

I taunted her about it because she was fun to tease, but if I was being honest, truly honest, I envied her life. Her reassuring, steady, slow life with its small curiosities and simple pleasures. I could not remember the last time I'd taken pleasure in anything, yet I could easily picture Nepheli taking pleasure in everything. A warm cup of tea in the morning, a lazy afternoon nap on her sofa, a chilly night hiding under the covers with her pretty nose stuck in a book, and her clear-water eyes wide with excitement. Her only tragedy was an internal conflict between her twin cravings for curiosity and life and her twin fears of newness and otherness.

She had no idea how ineffably lucky she was to have the option of being new, to hope for change and discovery.

I could never change. To become someone better, you needed the heart to do it.

If I were normal, I would be in pain now. I would feel a delirious sort of pressure on my sternum. I would feel lightheaded from breathing too hard. I would want to scream to the skies: I'm sorry. I was a fool. Please change me back. I made a mistake. I want to change now. And perhaps some god or ancient entity would hear my pleas and deem me worthy of saving after all.

It was ridiculous, wasn't it? To stand here, wishing to be able to feel pain and despair once again.

But on nights like this one, it was all I could think of.

To have a heart.