Last words I'll ever write..

Sitting inside Musée Rodin, in the heart of cosmopolitan Paris, is a sculpture

Surrounded by camera-wielding tourists and imposing French architecture..

Nude and bronze caste, with the sun glistening off its chiselled abs and sinewed biceps,

Is Auguste Rodin's creation.. A creation now known as, the thinker..

Unwittingly, across the Dover channel, I re-enacted the same pose.
Sitting at the foot of the bed, sweat glistening on my scalp, I was in thoughtful mode..
The only thing missing were the chiselled abs.
Oh yeah, and the gawking tourists..

I could hear the water running, as the cistern filled up..
The air vent humming efficiently in the background.
The squirt of the hand-wash bottle and the accompanying splash of water..
The double click, as the pull-string bathroom light switched off.

The humming got a little louder as the door opened, and then it all went quiet.
I looked over my shoulder.

Standing in the doorway, she looked amazing.
The light from the bedside lamp cascaded shadows across her body at obtuse angles..
Reflecting off the only item she was wearing, the silver crucifix on her neck..

A striking picture.

Staring for a few seconds, I uttered my next words..
“You okay?”
“Yeah..” Came the response. Low and husky, like she had a sore throat.
Only it had been that way since the day we first met.

“Had to do a quick number two”, she said, smiling like she could predict my response.
I groaned, “Ooohh.. You know that's a TMI moment right there, right?! Too much information!!”

She giggled, pretending I hadn't said a word.
“Always happens to me after some good loving.” She said, her feet lightly brushing the carpet as she walked towards the bed.”
great sex..” She continued, “..always leads to a number two and a nap. Most times I'm barely able to make it to the loo.”
I chuckled, “Is this a subtle way of telling me '
It was good but not great'??! Gee thanks for the self esteem boost!!”
Laughing, she grabbed a pillow and tossed it at me playfully, "You're such a joker.."
It whizzed right past me.
“And you're such a terrible shot” I countered, picking up the pillow from where it landed besides me.

I glanced back at her as the grabbed the newspaper and sat back on the bed, her left arm clutching the duvet just above her breasts.
“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look naked?” I asked with all the seriousness I could muster.
“Nope, but then people don't see me naked very often..” she said, pausing to pat the bed beside her, “..come”

She snuggled in, as I lay down beside her.
“So tell me.. do you believe in love? Or, like me, do you think it's just a fad.”
“A fad..?” I said, with a quizzical look on my face, “..nah I don't think it's a fad at all.”
With a hint of a smile, she continued, “so do you believe in romance?”
Yup.. but I find it's a subjective thing. Sometimes I find what's romantic to one person might not be to the next.”Really? How??” she asked, in that low husky voice..

I felt her snuggle in closer, as I turned to lie on my back.
I could feel her breathe on my ear, her enclasped fingers lightly gripping my forearm.
“Well.. I remember this one time when I used to enjoy writing love letters. Not talking modern day emails or texts. I mean like writing with a pen and paper and all. It's amusing thinking about it now, but then, I used to think the object of my affections loved it, as in.. ehn..
Until the day I fortuitously heard her talking with her girlfriends and she saying she thought it was pretty
cheesy.I was literally heartbroken, and I remember promising myself that they'll be the last words I ever write..”
I paused, chuckling, as the memories came flooding back..
Turning back towards her, I continued, “So that's an instance of...”
Then I paused again..
Cos, ever so lightly, she was snoring..
La la land.