My Own Desert Places, Pt. 12 (GPT-3 fueled short)


After that Oleksiy punk left on his Toyota 4Runner, I probably should have wandered away for a while, because my gated community is far too close to the narrow street where Oleksiy confronted me. However, the punch in my guts had done a number on my intestines. I struggle towards my house as fast as possible while clenching my asshole. Any wrong movement threatens to shoot all the contents of my bowels so they fill my underwear and roll down my legs. As if trying to avoid shitting myself wasn’t enough, I’m holding an umbrella with my left hand while with the right I’m punching in my phone a reply to Alazne’s text. By sending me that delicious sexual invitation via her bare midriff and her wet fingers, Alazne had opened up about her needs far more than I would have expected just after our first date. And I also can’t simply call her: Alazne won’t want to speak in her current state, flushed and in an erotic trance. That’s assuming that she is still touching herself after I left her hanging to take care of that Eastern European dickhead.
I write back to Alazne I’m so sorry that I didn’t reply to you immediately. Some weird guy accosted me thinking I was someone else.
Don’t worry. Are you okay?, she replies.
My angel, worried about my well-being above her horniness.
I’m fine, I text back. And now I’ll text you what I wanted to as soon as I looked at that picture: if you show me something so delicious, the next time I see you I’m going to eat you up.
Alazne must have looked through some options, because around ten seconds later I receive an animated emoji of a blushing face and a few hearts that orbit around it. Shortly after she writes Please come over to my place today.
I’m already passing in front of the graveyard adjoined to my gated community. My guts are churning and burning, and I wouldn’t be able to deal with the memory of shitting myself in the street. I would have to push that moment out of my mind whenever I looked at my beloved. Still, I focus on replying to Alazne’s message with I will be there around six and a half. I hope you are ready.
Can’t wait. I’ll be thinking of you, Alazne replies.
I finally enter my gated community, and then I scamper towards my house while I shiver. My sweat has turned colder than the rainwater. I might be imagining it, but I think I smell the stench as my asshole struggles to hold my breakfast and lunch in. When I open the front door of my house, I throw the soaked umbrella onto the floor, push the door close with my back, and then I sprint to the nearest bathroom. I lift the toilet seat, pull down my pants and my underwear with jerky movements, and as soon as I sit down and relax my asshole, it spasms and shoots out a load of watery shit that plasters the inside of the bowl. Then my ass explodes again. I cry out loud as it burns and itches terribly while cold sweat gets in my eyes.
As my asshole keeps spasming and shitting, I cry and groan and breathe heavily. Around a minute later, it’s finally over. I pull my pants up with shaky hands and walk out of the bathroom. I’m very dizzy and weak, so I have to lean against the walls as I shuffle to the kitchen to get a mop and a bucket. I don’t recall having cried while cleaning before.
When return to the kitchen, I feel Kateryna’s invisible presence staring at me from the dining table, next to her ouija board. I don’t want to talk about it, but she moves the planchette to communicate with me. I can’t leave her hanging.
WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, the planchette spells out.
“I had a bit of an accident,” I reply, struggling to keep my breathing normal. “An accident caused by some Eastern European prick punching my guts in.”
I sigh heavily as I approach the sink and use it to prop myself up. I rest my elbows on the edge as I grip my hair with my hands, almost in a hugging manner. I wish that Kateryna gets the message and lets me wallow in shame for a while, but my ghost roommate pushes down the call bell a couple of times. I turn towards the ouija board.
The planchette spells out PLEASE EXPLAIN.
“There’s nothing to explain, Kat,” I say with a hollow voice. “It seems that we live in a world where random Eastern European thugs accost people for no reason, and even go as far as stopping traffic to get out of their cars and wreck an innocent person’s intestines. What kind of society are we leaving to our kids?”
I move closer to the ouija board and let my fingers glide over the planchette.
“Don’t you sometimes just feel like going outside with a shotgun and… and ventilating every asshole you see? These dickheads shouldn’t be allowed to walk free, Kat. They fucking punch random people in the guts just because they’re having a bad day. If I had my way, I would…”
I stop talking, because I feel the tears coming. That bastard assaulted me, an innocent, harmless girl. I can’t believe such demons are allowed to roam around.
PLEASE DONT CRY MY BABY, the planchette spells out.
I wipe my eyes, then take a deep breath.
“Don’t worry, Kat. I have already emptied my bowels. Probably scraped the inside lining as well. Now all that matters is getting back in the mood to have sex.”
GO LOOK AT MY PHOTOS, the planchette spells out.
I’m touched, and I raise my hand to my heart.
“My needs have made you uneasy as of late, yet you still suggest me to masturbate while ogling your perfect features! You are an angel, Kateryna. This world doesn’t deserve you. But that wasn’t what I meant.”
I take out my phone and rescue my recent conversation with Alazne so I can show it to my ghost roommate. I hope Kateryna is looking from the direction that I’m pointing my screen at.
“See? My Alazne is horny and needs me inside her. So don’t wait for me, because I’ll spend the night holding the love of my life in my manly arms.”
The planchette remains still for a few seconds. Maybe my roommate is despairing because she has no one to love, while I’m so lucky that someone as perfect as Alazne has become my girlfriend.
CAN ONLY WAIT, the planchette spells out.
“Huh?” I reply, lowering my phone a little.
CANT SLEEP.
A sudden pang of pity makes me hunch over. I swallow my stale saliva.
“My poor Kat. I shouldn’t have reminded you of your predicament. Please, tell me which movies you want me to queue on VLC. All of them will look amazing in the new monitor.”
CANT WAIT TO BE ENTERD IN HEVENLY PARADISE, the planchette spells out.
I sit down heavily on the nearest chair, then rub my eyes. There’s no way anything is going to stop me from ravaging my Alazne tonight, and yet I’ll have to abandon my roommate in despair.
“Everything is shit, Kateryna,” I mutter. “You are right about that.”

A warm shower rinsed most of my shame away, as well as whatever residues remained of my ass explosion. The moment I got out of the shower I grabbed my phone from the sink and called a taxi. No way I was going to bother with walking to the nearest bus stop that took me to Irún, and then getting on another bus to reach Belaskoenea. Rich people shouldn’t have to suffer such inconveniences.
As I stand in front of the fogged mirror, that thankfully conceals the view of my man-torso with all that hair and lack of proper breasts, I dry myself with a towel and consider how this stupid day is going to end up: I will join my goddess in holy communion by letting her hungry insides wrap themselves around my rock-hard monster. I need to have more confidence in myself and in the body I’m presenting to the world. After all, it’s this body that will keep Alazne warm and safe in its hairy arms.
I wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror and take a good look into Asier’s eyes staring back at me. I would have never thought I would come to feel sympathy for that clown, but then again he is me now, isn’t he?
I spray some lavender-scented deodorant under my armpits, then brush my teeth in a hurry. My heart is beating hard, but more due to anxiety than of anticipation. That fucking Oleksiy turd ruined my day, and could potentially turn my first night together with Alazne into a disaster. I need to pump myself up. I bring up Alazne’s sexy picture on my phone, then stare at her bare midriff, at those anointed fingers.
“My love, tonight I’m going to make you fully mine like a man does, by stretching out slightly his girl’s vagina according to the particular dimensions of the man’s penis.”
Those curves in Alazne’s midriff are making me salivate, and then my penis finally twitches. I pass the phone to my left hand and allow my right to come to my penis’ aid. It’s back to life, and pushing against my palm and my fingers as it grows to fill as much space as possible. My pet monster has acknowledged his responsibility.
Thankfully this Asier prick wanted to see as much of his cheating self as he could, because he bought a huge bathroom mirror. As I hold my hard penis, I study its reflection. It’s thick enough that I can’t close my hand around it, and if I slide my fingers along it until the pinky touches the base, my hand only hides half of the full penis. Its head is bulbous but tight, with a pleasant purplish-red color now that it’s filling up with blood. Stroking this girl dick feels so good that I’ve spent plenty of time in this house with my pants down and touching myself as I performed any activity. Especially in the beginning, when I would feel feverish and needed to alleviate the aches of my transformation into a man.
In less than two hours, this monstrous seed-spewing device of mine will be thrusting into Alazne’s pale, freckled, delicate body, and her hot insides will milk it eagerly until it explodes.
My mind is going blank as I lean against the sink and keep stroking myself. My heartbeats feel as if I’m risking a heart attack. I will get used to having a dick. The rest of men’s bodies disgusts me, but the power inherent to a cock aligns better with my nature as a conqueror. Feeling women squirming in my strong arms while my monster ravages their insides, that’s the only reason to live. And because I retain my female mind, Asier’s well-built, powerful man-body has lost its only weakness. I might be the first true futa in this retarded planet.
My legs feel weak, my knees threaten to buckle under me…. Will I be able to shoot my load before the taxi arrives? And I have to dress myself and everything. Wait a second, why the hell am I jerking off right now? Wasn’t I preparing myself to head to Alazne’s house so I can fuck her for the first time?
Even though the man-brain that remains in this body curses me for it, I take my hand off my penis. I rest my forearms on the sink and take deep breaths as my penis aches for more contact. I wash my face with cold water. Calm down, Irene. You did the right thing. You were about to commit a sacrilege, because the jerk off times are over. Alazne is eager to welcome me sexually, so from now on every ounce of semen that this stolen body produces is going to end up splattering her skin or her face, or filling her mouth or her womb. Or in a condom, I suppose… If Alazne suggests ass stuff, though, I will resist, because that’s just nasty.
Unfortunately, this sudden decision of mine only brought more elaborate imagery to my mind. I close my eyes and take deep breaths to calm down.
After I return to my bedroom and lay my clothes on the bed to dress myself, I realize what a service I’m going to procure to my Alazne as her devoted boyfriend. Alazne masturbates so much because it kidnaps her from the abusive relationship that her depression forced upon her. For the very short time that the orgasm’s flower of pleasure-inducing chemicals blossoms in one’s brain… No, that’s too lyrical. My point is that an orgasm whites out everything in a brain except for the pleasure of coming. That’s more like it. So it follows that if I could make Alazne come over and over, with the next orgasm overlapping the last throes of the previous one, there would be no pain, no depression. My job as Alazne’s girlfriend slash boyfriend is to make her orgasm as often as possible.

Once the helpful taxi driver leaves me right next to Alazne’s apartment building in Belaskoenea, I am careful to open my umbrella to protect myself against the downpour. I don’t want to show up in front of her as drenched as a stray dog. Also, I don’t like one bit how dark the late afternoon has gotten; only the brightest of suns should have accompanied today the blessed act that Alazne and I are going to perform in her bed.
Along the way here I texted Alazne to let her prepare herself, because I would arrive in a short while. She added that she lived in the third floor and apartment D. Of course, I already knew that, so I hadn’t thought about asking. I wonder if Alazne considered me careless for it.
Lightning strikes and thunder rumbles with menacing indifference to my plight. I press the button to Alazne’s apartment. She buzzes me in silently. I take the elevator, and as it moves up I concentrate my remaining anxiety in my fists. I’m a tough man. Back when I was a girl, I deflowered plenty of innocent ladies. That now I’m going to use untested equipment makes no difference. Thankfully I don’t risk crossing the streams with anybody.
I step out of the elevator onto the third floor. The old light bulbs lighting the two apartment doors make it feel as if I have stepped back in time into the seventies. And even if I didn’t know Alazne’s apartment letter, I’m already overwhelmed by an aura of depression that I can trace back to my queen’s apartment door. She must have been looking through the peephole, because she opens the door to welcome me.
When Alazne appears in front of me, my heart nearly bursts. Her light brown hair is loose, framing her pale, freckled face. Her sad, hazel eyes are glassy, and look up at me as if pleading. Her cheeks are flushed. There are traces of dried saliva near the edges of her mouth. She’s wearing a black top with the Wings of Freedom logo over her heart as well as on the short sleeves, and the top exposes her midriff, the sight of which turns up my production of saliva. She’s wearing grey pyjama shorts which must hide those pink cotton panties she showed me in her photo. For some reason Alazne also put on pink knee-high socks with cat faces all over them, but I won’t complain, as they only make me breathe harder.
I can tell by Alazne’s hesitant smile that she’s embarrassed. She took her alluring pic during her masturbation session, when the entire world beyond anything related to her pleasure had ceased to exist, but she still had extended a hand towards me, as her subconscious had understood that I would join her gladly. However, that Oleksiy thug had failed to read the mood, so I couldn’t reply to Alazne’s offering soon enough. Now Alazne, who I suppose has stopped masturbating for at least an hour, isn’t sure whether I came because I felt obligated. Maybe she feared I would consider her a loon for having sent me a sexual proposition for our second date, even though I had accepted her pleading wish that I would take care of her forever.
I step into her apartment, making Alazne step back so I can close her apartment door, and then I turn towards her, hold her by the bare, warm skin of her lower back and bend over to taste her wet mouth. I reach down to her butt, barely covered by her shorts, and touch the cleft between her cheeks. She feels warm and inviting. My dick is already growing against my boxers. I put my other hand on the soft skin of her abdomen and caress it slowly as I tangle her tongue with mine. She tastes like strawberry toothpaste. I take a deep whiff of Alazne’s smell: stale sweat, what little remains of yesterday’s deodorant, a hint of pussy juices mixed with soap. My mouth is flooding, and I feel a pang of hunger that only Alazne’s body can satiate.
After we stop kissing, Alazne doesn’t untangle her arms, crossed behind my head. Her eyes are glistening.
“I-I thought I had been too forward…” she murmurs.
I lick the saliva that had leaked from her mouth.
“You thought of me while you played with yourself to forget this horrible world. I couldn’t feel more blessed.”
She laughs and squeezes me tightly. I hug her back. I touch her ear with my lips, and I whisper into it.
“You know what you need, and I will take good care of you.”
I kiss along her neck, and then move down to her clavicles. I bite one of them. Her body tenses up and a moan of delight escapes her lips. I would have fucked her right there and then, but she breaks the embrace. However, she doesn’t let go of my hand.
“L-let me show you around,” she says shily, unable to look me in the eyes, even though her smile is as pleasant as they come.
Her rented apartment is cramped and old. Most of the furniture is made of mahogany, and the majority of the shelves are empty as if the previous owners took every object with them except for the furniture itself, which was too cumbersome or maybe mostly worthless. The sofa, which faces an empty coffee table, is worn out and covered in cat scratches. I have never seen a cat in this apartment, but maybe Alazne had a precious pet and lost it, so I won’t bring it up.
“Looks like shit, doesn’t it?” Alazne says with a smile. “I found out that the previous owner, an old woman, died right there on the sofa. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were still around, or if this apartment simply doesn’t heat up properly.”
I want to avoid seeming silly, so I contain behind a manly expression how happy I am that I finally get to experience Alazne’s apartment without everything feeling colorless, tasteless and odorless thanks to that faded filter that the afterlife applies to everything. And Alazne’s warm, slightly sweaty hand feels heavenly in mine. I want to fuck her so bad.
“Ah…” I start, but I end up swallowing to compose myself. “Wait, you say that the ghost of that old broad might still be here?”
“Yeah,” Alazne says with a smirk. “She’s mean, too. She threw my brand new glasses out of the window when I was leaning in to get some fresh air. No, I’m kidding, that was me being careless, as usual.”
“If the woman remained as a ghost, you would experience much more ghostly stuff than that, for sure. Footsteps, whispers, maybe objects flying around, sleep paralysis, and if you were particularly unlucky, some opportunist ghost might possess your body to touch you all over. I know I would have been beyond tempted.”
I looked into Alazne’s eyes as I spoke the last part, and although she wasn’t holding my gaze as I said it, her eyes flick towards me for a split second.
“You seem well versed in ghost stuff. You keep surprising me with the things you are into.”
“Yeah,” I say in a low, hungry voice. “If I were a horny ghost, I’d go after you, with or without your permission.”
“Hm… So I wouldn’t be able to resist you as you caressed me…?”
“That’s right. I would do with your beautiful body whatever I wanted.”
Alazne blushes, then moves closer to me so she can rest her face on my chest. I put my hands on her bare lower back, and then slide them under her shirt. I prod the wings of her bra.
Back when I haunted Alazne’s apartment, I was the only other ghostly inhabitant, so that old woman must have either moved on to the beyond or fucked off somewhere else, whether because she wanted to explore the world or because she wanted to leave Alazne in peace. Whatever the case, I couldn’t be more grateful. Thank you, nameless old woman. I hope the afterlife is treating you better than it did most of the boring, hopeless souls I came across.
After Alazne and I kiss for a bit, she guides me further into her apartment through the narrow hallway. Hanging on the walls there are black and white photos of the city, as well as the neighboring Hondarribia, as they must have been in the thirties and forties.
“That’s the bathroom,” Alazne points towards a half open door. “The cistern barely works, and often I need to move the mechanism around, as well as the lid, so it fills up again. And it’s better if you flush a few times while you are taking a shit, because clogging is an issue. I think I heard some neighbors say that it’s a problem with the sewer line, or something.”
“Hm. Okay.”
We move from the hallway into the kitchen, a small room with barely any furniture save for a table and two chairs. The fridge is relatively new; she must have bought it in the last three years. But a toaster, a mixer and other appliances have gathered dust on a shelf. I know that Alazne doesn’t bother cooking complicated stuff, and if she can get away with it, she’ll heat up premade food or not eat at all when she’s depressed enough. A bunch of boxes have piled up in a corner. Alazne doesn’t care much about clutter, but most of the stuff she buys she eats, are clothes, or exist as one and zeros in her computer.
“That’s where we… w-we will eat breakfast together tomorrow…”
That’s my Alazne’s way of asking, ‘please, stay with me after you fuck me’. I run my fingers through the loose hair near her nape.
“I’m sure breakfast will taste so good after having you sleeping in my arms.”
Alazne shivers, then turns towards the hallway.
“R-right. Then… there is the bedroom,” Alazne says with a desirous tone.
The walls are painted a soothing blue. The best part of the room is the unmade, queen size bed, with a pearl-white, floral bedding set. The bed takes up most of the room, and it even goes into a gap in the mahogany wardrobe that covers that entire wall. Next to the bed there’s a nightstand with all sorts of things on it: a lamp, her phone, a glass of water, guitar picks and a capo, various pill bottles with the labels torn off… The small desk where Alazne set up her cheap PC is so close to the side of the bed closest to the window, as well as to a radiator, that once you sit in front of it you can barely move.
I have finally reached paradise. I will spend all of eternity in this bedroom.
Alazne lets go of my hand, turns her back on me and stands up next to the bed.
“So… what do you think?” she asks with a thin, anxious voice. “Pretty sad, huh…?”
I ogle her light brown hair that reaches the middle of her back, her soft butt barely covered by the shorts, those succulent thighs, and the way her knee-high socks hug her calves. I feel the pulse in my dick, and it’s getting harder for me to breathe. I step closer to Alazne and put my hands on her shoulders.
A big, well-built man who wants her bad, and she the small, lightly clothed woman who is too shy to ask for what she yearns. She has replayed scenes like this on her computer while her thighs trembled. And now, the woman who has longed to feel desired and sexually wanted has that chance. She doesn’t feel like she deserves it, but she’ll take it eagerly.
I hug Alazne from behind, pressing my body against hers. With my right hand I tilt her head and hold it to grant me access to her neck, and I kiss and lick her skin upward until I get to suck on her ear. With my left hand, I caress her abdomen and focus on digging into her bellybutton.
“I’m scared…” she whispers with a trembling voice.
Alazne lets out a sigh of delight as she presses her butt against my erection. She raises one hand to my face and strokes it as I nibble on her earlobe. ‘I’m scared,’ the actress said. The muscled, well-hung man who restrained her delicate body would whisper in her ear that she had nothing to fear, that he would take care of her.
“Don’t be. You can trust me.” I reply as my left hand wanders lower to dive under the hem of her shorts and panties. “From now on you will be fully mine. You will feel me deep inside you, I will lick your clit until you come in my mouth, and when you can’t take it anymore, you will sleep in my manly arms, which will keep you warm and safe.”
“T-that… Hmm… Sounds so good…”
When I open my eyes, my gaze falls on her computer monitor. Alazne has left uTorrent open. Most of the entries have Japanese titles and episode numbers, and I even recognize the one for yesterday’s episode of ‘Attack on Titan’, but around half of the entries either seeding or downloading are porn videos. This woman… Now it truly makes no sense that she used incognito mode to browse PornHub, back when I was a ghost looking over her shoulder.
I cross my arms over her breasts to bring her closer in a tight hug as Alazne’s butt trembles against my dick. I speak softly into her ear canal.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Alazne. You haven’t opened up about what you love the most.”
Her eyeballs roll towards me, although they are so glassy that for a moment I consider whether she would listen to anything at this point. But she turns enough to kiss me on the lips, then asks me:
“W-what do you mean?”
“Those guitar picks, the capo, the calluses on your fingertips… You might not be able to afford to pay for the classes, but that hasn’t stopped you, has it?”
She turns her face towards the ceiling. Tears form in the rim of that eye.
“I keep telling myself I’ll give it up, because the daydreams hurt me, but I don’t. I want so much to play… B-but I’m too fucking scared to go outside, so I just s-stayed here instead…”
Oh no, she’s turning incoherent. I bring two fingers to her lips and silence them. Still, she closes her eyes and licks my fingers slowly, coating them in saliva, while she rubs her ass against my erection. To be honest, I’m losing it myself. I clear my throat subtly.
“Show me, Alazne. I won’t fill you up with this monster until you show me what you truly love.”
“Y-you want me to play the guitar…?”
“That’s what has kept you alive so far, isn’t it?”
She closes her eyes and remains still for a moment, but then she turns around and hugs me tightly. Her love oozes out of her body.
“It’s the only thing I wanted, before I met you… Just play songs, even if those songs belonged to others. Nothing else felt right…”
She’s self-taught and she doesn’t quite know how to play properly, but back when I lived here without her knowledge, I had never heard anything so beautiful in my strange existence. She committed herself to every note as if her life depended on it, and I guess it did.
I pull back from the embrace, and I smile at her as I stroke her cheek.
“Play a song for me. We have all night for making love.”
Although her face is flushed from horniness, she smiles like a teenager and walks on the bed until she reaches a big vertical door on her wardrobe. I walk around the bed to stand behind Alazne. When she opens the door and tries to pull the guitar bag out, something falls to the floor. It’s a worn, stained sheet, with a knot tied on one end to make a noose. Alazne drops the guitar bag, which falls backward until it rests against the wall, and stares at the noose that I had witnessed her trying to hang herself with. Alazne’s face has gone white. Although she tries to force herself to look into my eyes, her gaze merely raises for a moment from the floor before she gives up. She hunches over.
I cup her head and bring her closer to kiss her on the temple.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I-I wanted to die… B-but I didn’t have the courage. Still, I hoped that eventually I would succeed… But then I met you, and you told me that you love me. I decided to keep living, for your sake.”
“You don’t need to keep living for my sake. I want you to keep going because eventually you’ll want to remain alive no matter what.”
I pick up the noose and then throw it into the wardrobe. I close the door.
“I don’t think you’ll use it again.”
A few tears roll down Alazne’s cheeks as she wrings her hands in front of her shorts.
“I won’t.”
I grab the guitar bag and place it at the foot of the bed. Alazne snaps out of it. She sits on the edge of the bed and takes out her instrument. It’s a cheap round shoulder acoustic. Alazne rests it across her right thigh as carefully and lovingly as she would a child. She caresses the strings with her fingers as she finds a comfortable position.
I position the chair close enough that I will be able to look at Alazne from the front. Then I sit down and lean forward.
“W-what do you want me to play?” she asks shily.
“Whatever you feel like playing.”
She nods, then starts tuning her strings. She bites her lower lip as she concentrates on doing it right, and I smile as I watch her cute face. Then, when the strings are all set, she starts to play. I recognize the three starting notes, mainly because I have heard her play this song many times. It’s a custom rendition of Explosions In The Sky’s ‘Your Hand in Mine’. Unfortunately, almost as soon as she hits the second phrase, her fingers stop playing the proper notes, and even hit dead ones. It’s as if she had gotten on a bycicle years later only to realize that she has forgotten how to ride it. Alazne grits her teeth as her face becomes a mask of frustration. Even though she tries to power through it, likely to reach her favorite part of this song, she ends up groaning and giving up. She presses her lips together as if to repress as sob.
“Ah… W-why would I be surprised. I always fuck everything up. Even playing the guitar, my favorite thing in the world, and a song that I have played over and over, my fingers suddenly have no clue where to go.”
I stand up hastily and then kneel in front of her. She looks at me with tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“You’re just very nervous because I’m watching you,” I say as I rest my hands on her shoulders. “You are worried about disappointing me, even though that couldn’t be further from how I feel about you. Playing an instrument isn’t the domain of that part of your brain that questions everything, that worries about what others think, that filters every thought and movement to figure out if it has to censor them. Isn’t that right? You need to return the control to your true self.”
“Y-yeah…”
“I’ll lie down on your bed behind you and close my eyes. I don’t want to hear you performing for someone else’s ears. Play because it keeps you alive.”
She nods her head vigorously and grabs a tissue from the nightstand to wipe her tears. As I promised, I get on her bed and lie down behind her, resting my head on Alazne’s soft pillow. It smells like my beloved. I close my eyes and I caress the back of her picking arm.
Alazne starts to play the beautiful melody, and this time she doesn’t screw up. She performs with passion as if she was shaking off all her burdens. And it doesn’t matter that I’m listening to it with my eyes closed while a holy warmth spreads throughout my body, because back when I lived here as a ghost, I always stared at her as she played. I replay one of those memories in the theatre of my mind. Her fingers dance up and down the strings as her facial expression goes through a series of transformations. First she looks sad, then angry, then passionate, then mournful. There has never been a human being this beautiful.
I’m crying. The tears stream down across my cheeks to moisten the pillow. The first time I heard Alazne’s song, the one peeking out from inside her performance, was when I happened to wander in front of this apartment building, back when I could no longer conceive of anything more than the dreary, colorless, meaningless eternity as a ghost who would never move on. I can now sink in this bed and hear the full intensity of Alazne’s playing, smell her scent, feel the warmth of her skin, because she brought me back to life.
When I know that it won’t take long until the last notes fade away into silence, I wipe the tears from my eyes. A man doesn’t cry.

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