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Intersecting Lines

Wednesday. Dark nimbostratus clouds started forming. It’s
going to rain hard soon. The virus has spread through him. His body temperature
rose three degrees above normal, making every fluid that comes out of him feel
like boiling water. Even the cold winds brought by the weather couldn’t help him
cool down. But there are things that are should be done and sickness must not
stop him from doing it. So he overcame the magnetic pull of the bed to his
body and forced his way to the bus station.

The vehicle is almost full and the only vacant seat was the
one beside him. There then came this girl. She took the seat beside him. She
smelled nice, he thought. Even though he had impaired olfactory sense, the
fragrance she dissipates still got through him. It was a familiar smell after
all.

 The bus started to
move and so did the rain fall. It should be cold, but his body is burning as if
a furnace was inside him. An exaggerated paradox. He hungered for the cold; pyrexia is making him weak.

He decided to lay his back. While he moved to a more
comfortable position, he happened to place his arms to where her arms were.
Their skin made contact. It was cold, as if winter was blowing inside her body.
It was the cold that he was looking for; he found it in her skin, and he liked
it. He stayed still, telepathically telling her to stay too, so that he can
savor the chill that only she can offer. She stayed that way. She was also
enjoying the warmth that only his body could give on a cold ride. It was
mutual. He can feel the temperature of his body gradually dropping as if
something is taking it away from him. At the same time, he can feel her skin
start to heat up, until they were in equilibrium. He can feel his energy
growing back as the heat from his body dropped.

He glanced at her, but her face was against the light from his
point of view. Her nose, her eyes, her cheeks, and her lips; they drew a well
defined silhouette. The ride was long and winding, and later she decided to
nap. She subconsciously looked for comfort and found it in his shoulder. Her
hair was like lavender, he can’t help it.

They stayed that way until the end of the ride. He wished
for the trip to never end. But as everything in the world does, they came to their
destination. And from there they took different paths; paths that are never
meant to cross again.

(Summary: He had fever, rode a bus and infected his
seatmate.)