It was a sad, slow Spanish song
I knew the words, but I sang them wrong
The one I love has left and gone without me
--Chris Isaak, Blue Spanish Sky
Even as he kissed her neck, he knew it would be one of the last.
The midday hotel simmered in silence, waiting for the heat of the afternoon. In the room, the air was spiced, and the air curtained to exotic red.
So strange how in this moment, all of her dark elixirs were poured for him, but in a few minutes, and twelve steps out into the Mediterranean street, she would already be thousands of miles away.
The midday hotel simmered the first of the afternoon heat.
And he did not pull the red curtain aside to watch her go.