The Fog Catchers 011
He stands before me. Just looking at me.
CODE FACE. The mist-bound man who does not speak, not in words, but only in numbers as they travel across his skin.
Numbers, letters, mathematical signs: glowing, known, unknown, and moving across his hands as well, as he holds them out to me.
CODE FACE. A stranger who takes me by the hand and dances with me. Dances! Me. Imagine. Rooftop waltzing in the fog, in the dark.
And his face is the only brightness. I am drawn to the patterns there, as they unfurl in golden lines.
CODE FACE. He’s not alone. Others with him. I never really see them, only glimpse fellow shapes, two or three more, it’s hard to tell.
They go about their own business, whatever it might be, and I am so pleased to be a part of what they’re doing. I have a role to play.
CODE FACE. My partner. Here we are, on the top of the world: I am the dancer who dances with the dancer as he leans in close to…
Whisper. To whisper secrets. To speak at last in words. And his breath on my skin, so gentle, I can hardly feel it. He’s barely alive.