The moonlight shines in through the open window, falling across her alabaster skin to create a shimmering, supernatural effect on her naked body. Her eyes are closed, as she lies silently alone on the bed. It is too humid a night for any form of covering, and subsequently the bedclothes have been pushed to the floor.

The air in the room is still and stiflingly hot. The only sound that can be heard is her steady breathing.

As she lies there, she can sense something. She is no longer alone. The temperature in the room drops considerably. The sheer, white curtain that hangs on the window ruffles slightly as if by a soft breeze.

But the air is perfectly still.

She stirs as she feels an added weight upon the bed. It is only light, but noticeable nonetheless. She is not frightened. Her eyes remain closed.

Something gently brushes across her forehead, smoothing the hair away from her face. The featherlight touch moves over her smooth cheek, tracing the line of her face and down to her chin. A finger glides over her mouth, scarcely making contact. She slowly licks her lips, wetting them in anticipation. Still her eyes are closed.

She senses the lips of another moving towards her own. She waits expectantly. They are on hers, ever so softly however. A gentle, tender kiss. Their mouths are barely touching, but so much emotion is conveyed by that one small gesture.

The mouth moves away. Her eyes remain closed. A cool hand is placed on her throat. Despite the intense heat radiating from her body, she shivers. Her skin becomes goosepimpled. The hand slides carefully down her chest between her breasts, to her navel. The hand may be cool and the flesh it is touching, hot, but her body feels as though it will melt at any moment.

The fingers trace intricate designs around her stomach, then back up to, and over, her breasts. The rise and fall of her chest changes in rhythm. Her breaths become shallow and irregular. Still, her eyes remain closed.

She stretches her body languidly on the bed as the fingers continue their strange patterns. She senses that mouth hovering above hers once again. A tiny, contented smile forms on her lips as the other mouth closes the distance between them.

Their lips meet for a second time. Hers respond to the other’s, tasting them, as she is enveloped by their cool touch. Her eyes remain closed.

In her mind she is delighting in these sensations. The pleasantly cold hand and lips against her feverish body. Cooling her. Soothing her. Calming her.

Suddenly she remembers something. She cannot be soothed. She cannot be calmed. Not anymore.

She can no longer feel the hand trailing across her body, nor the lips pressing against her own.

A solitary tear slips from beneath her eyelid and trickles down her face.

Slowly she opens her eyes. She is alone in their bedroom, lying in the darkness. It has happened again. She sensed a presence. But she knows it is not possible. Her lover is gone forever and will not return. More tears flow. She rolls over and looks at the empty side of the bed next to her. She closes her eyes. Encircling her arms around her body, she wills the pain and sadness to leave her. All she wants is peace.

The still night air returns to being thick and humid as the curtain across the window stirs one final time.