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      Waves
      by
      
Adriana Mosoiu
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      

I killed her. 
I did. Never claimed the opposite. I knew they’d 
search for me, I also knew they’d eventually find 
me. Still, I don’t regret it. What’s regretting, 
anyway? Just small lint in your eye, and you try to 
get rid of it.
Nope. I loved her till the end, till I had to make 
a choice. Our love was a deadly virus. It 
suffocated me, so I had to do something, I felt I 
couldn’t resist anymore. Me? Or her? Someone had to 
step out of this game, we were walking a one way 
street and I had enough of collisions. We used to 
be like two magnets drawing each other, now we 
couldn’t even see each other’s face. I couldn’t 
even stand the thought of her being closer than 100 
miles. The feelings were mutual. In the beginning I 
was happy, thought she wasn’t afraid of me, afraid 
of her feelings for me. I thought I meant something 
to her. Stupid me, I was completely out of my mind. 
She never loved me, it was all just a war movie by 
the end of which the actors stand up from the 
trenches, remove the dust and go their ways.
Her hands never caressed my hair, my hands never 
touched her cheek, her belly, her knees. Her ankles 
have never been the first things I saw in the 
morning;
night was just a biological need. I loved her. And 
everything was just an illusion. We were the 
rabbits in the magician’s hat. The sets.
I managed to forget her, for a while. And I felt 
free. My lungs stood still in the thorax, my 
stomach didn’t give a start when I felt her smell, 
nights were compatible with my sleep, and days – 
though they weren’t exactly a yellow diamond string 
– they made sense. I was free and life was 
beautiful.
I was fooling myself. She was still living inside 
me, she was in every single fiber, in every single 
pore, she was in every single blood cell. It wasn’t 
me anymore, I was her, the absence of her. It was 
growing inside me and I wasn’t aware, it was a 
small wave coming closer. Wave after wave after 
wave, until it turned into a tsunami. I opened the 
window but this wasn’t the right solution. I don’t 
have suicide
skills. Not me, but the waves needed to disappear.
How did I do it? I was gentle to her. Didn’t shoot 
her, nor strangle her with the phone wire, I hate 
violence. A few grams of inhaled xenure could put 
you
to sleep and then send you to the Quiet Zone. I had 
her keys, so I entered and before she came in I 
sprayed the xenure on her cigarettes. Then I hid 
myself on the balcony and waited. After about an 
hour, she returned home. I was able to hear her 
walking, opening the refrigerator, the radio, 
lighting a cigarette, and then I heard the water 
flowing in the bathtub.
Oh, how I missed her! How badly did I want to kiss 
her wet skin, to lean my head on her shoulder, to 
kiss her teeth and her ribs and her ankles… What 
for? It wouldn’t be the same anyway, we couldn’t be 
Al Bano and Romina Power anymore, each of us was 
separated from the other, each of us was lonely 
lonely lonely lonely.
After a while she turned off the lights and I 
couldn’t hear her anymore. I supposed she fell 
asleep, generally xenure works quickly. She was 
sleeping and I was so close to her, but I couldn’t 
steal her wana anymore… I realized that all this 
time I vainly tried to tear her memory off my 
brain. I loved her even more.
Thank God I did it. My life was nothing but a piece 
of sandpaper, it couldn’t go on like that.
I stepped into the room. She even didn’t get to dry 
her hair, she fell asleep on the sofa. I went 
closer and sipped the water drops on her hair. It 
smelled like shampoo. I passed my heated fingers 
over her wet eyebrows. I kissed her neck. She had 
no pulse. I panicked when the phone rang, so I said 
to myself I should leave. Finally, after all those 
struggles and sleepless nights, I was free!
I went home and slept. Don’t know whether I dreamed 
or not. They arrested me early in the morning, 
there were five armored giants, as if I could 
fight, me! I don’t
even have scissors in my house and the knife – only 
use it to butter the bread.
They arrested and tried me. The verdict was short 
and I expected it: deportation. They sent me to 
Shannon, a small island in the Greenland Sea, half 
a world away,
to make glaciers. I arrived here a week ago and I 
can already say that guillotine is a child’s game 
comparing to my work here. We stay all day long in 
huge refrigerators, there are three main pools that 
collect water and convert it into glaciers. Soon, 
those glaciers would join the bigger ones floating 
already at sea. Thanks to other poor fellows and me 
the inhabitants of Holland and Venice can sleep 
safely, in dry beds. We all have frozen arms and 
legs, and most of the time we are unconscious, 
fainted because of gases. Soon, we’ll be nothing 
but crawling stumps.
I still think about her, from time to time. We walk 
on the cliff or on the beach, her white scarf 
touches my shoulder, we hold each other’s hand and 
our feet plunge into the sand. I kiss her and the 
water touches my knees, but it’s not the ocean, no, 
it’s the frost that bites me like a hungry shark. I 
love her and I suffer. I’m cold and suffer. I 
suffer cause I love her and I roll into her memory 
like a sunny meadow, I feel so good tucked up with 
her memory. I know she’s with me, I can feel it.
Sometimes, 
between the cold gusts, I can feel the shampoo on 
her wet hair. The more I suffer the closest I feel 
her. And this pain will purify me. I’ll become a 
better man for her, I’ll love her even more. And I 
know we’ll be together till the end of time.
Adriana Mosoiu (b.1974) lives and works in 
Constanta, Romania. 
Infatuated with art, photography and travelling.

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