Henrik Larsen

In Thoughts of You

Elisabeth sits down with her cup of tea. The chair is standing slightly to the left of the large window, but drawn back into the room. She feels safe this way. The see-through curtain shields her from the world outside and allows her to observe the window opposite without being seen. Not to be seen or to be seen? The question is troubling her. It paralyses her, and sitting in front of the window in the still-covered chair has it superseding all other activities. Today it is three weeks since she moved in and she still needs to unpack her things.

"Where are thou?" she says out loud. "What keeps you away from me?"

The cup feels warm in Elisabeth's hand. Running her finger along the side of the cup she tries to imagine that it is warm, smooth skin.

"Will your skin feel so smooth?"

There is no answer. The room on the other side of the window is still dark and empty. Another minute goes by and then another. Should she light the candles next to the window? Should she reveal her presence behind the curtain? She wants it so much and she is too scared to do it. It grows darker outside and if she does it now it will look perfectly natural, but then it is suddenly too late. The light comes on in the room opposite.

"Finally. What took you so long? You should have been here twenty minutes ago. Oh, you've been out jogging. You could have told me."

As if he can hear her he bows--as if he is apologising. Elisabeth almost drops the cup. She calms herself: of course he hears nothing. The window is closed ... and the distance. A shiver runs down her spine when he begins to take his clothes off, carefree and naturally, although he is clearly visible from every window across the street. Or perhaps her window is the only one with an unobstructed view?

He looks directly at her window as if he is looking at her. Another shiver runs down her spine and with it a warm, nice feeling that spreads out through her body. She wants to pull the curtain away, wants to show herself to him, show him what he does to her.

"No, don't go. Stay with me a little longer."

The words never reach him. She puts down the cup. Perhaps he is taking a shower. Today she will pull the curtain away and let him see her as she really is: not the quiet Elisabeth in the office, the Elisabeth who never goes out. No, she wants to show him the passionate, loving and daring Elisabeth. She reaches for the curtain but it is too far away. Her body refuses to do as she orders, just like yesterday and the day before. Close to tears from frustration she falls back into the chair and presses her legs tightly together to suppress the aching.

"Come back."

The seconds feels painfully long. A shadow on the back wall sends a wave of heat through Elisabeth. He stands in front of the window with a towel around his waist, facing her, looking straight at her. He is holding something black in his left hand.

The sound of the telephone makes her jump. She takes her eyes off him while she picks up the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Elisabeth?"

The voice is dark, soft and pleasant.

"I was thinking of you. Don't you think it is about time we get together?"

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