And in the crack of dawn she woke. Raising her arms above her head, leaping up from the bed, her husband's shirt drooping over her small shoulders, just covering her sex. Onto the ladder she stepped, and she climbed. She climbed until she reached the ceiling, then she climbed through the ceiling, and passed through her neighbor's kitchen. Her feet edged off each step of the ladder gracefully, never slipping off, her toes always firm in their grasp. Splinters caught in her hands, but she ignored them all. Through the roof she climbed and up into the orange blue. The ice stung her cheeks, but she ignored them too. And then, finally, she saw him, reaching down to grab her hand. She took it. She took his shirt and returned it to him. He took it. He took her hand and tossed the shirt back down. It waved goodbye and swayed down until it twisted in a heap on their bed. And at last, they took their naked bodies away, joining the world as they slept on the clouds.
(photo via AnOthermag.com)
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