Control | Moon Knight

1

It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down—
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh

I felt Siroccos—crawl—Nor Fire—for just my Marble feetCould keep a Chancel, cool—

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine—

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And 'twas like Midnight, some –

When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares—all around—
Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground—

But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—
Without a Chance, or Spar—
Or even a Report of Land—
To justify—Despair.

The Emily Dickinsons poem lays fresh within her mind as she stares out the tall, skinny window of her flat. Her lungs sit heavily in her chest as she finds it exhausting to take but a single breath.

The rain falls down on the world outside and creates a somewhat soothing sound to her ears, allowing her thoughts to slowly fade away, back into the void.

Her phone buzzing on the wooden table next to her seems to draw her focus away from the window as she reads the text displayed across her screen.

Can't wait to see you! I'm almost there.

Her eyes widen as realization finally hits. She's late. She springs up from the chair that now dawns a crease from her sitting for so long as rushes to get ready as quickly as possible. She grabs the clothes she already had picked out and laying on her bed, then slips on some shoes and a jacket and heads out the door.

She runs through the rainy London streets, her combat boots splashing through puddles as her breath comes out in pants, only to make it to the bar 10 minutes late. She makes it to the door and lets out a deep breath before opening the door to the pub. Her eyes scan the room, going over countless tables before she finds the one she needs and makes her way over.

" I am so sorry," She says as she takes off her coat.

" Oh, it's no worries," The woman sat at the table says, " I'm Tanya."

" Cleo."

The two women shake hands and finally sit down after their now formal introduction. Tanya sits down in the booth while Cleo sits across from her in a chair. She puts down her things and gives the woman her full and undivided attention.

" So, um..." Cleo trails, " How are you?"

" Good! Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Tanya says with a slight level of uncertainty in her voice, " H-How are you?"

" I'm okay," Cleo answers honestly, " Not my best day, but definitely not my worst."

A waiter comes by their table and brings them two glasses of water. Tanya's shaky hands go to pick up the glass, but it slips through her fingers and almost breaks on the table if Cleo hadn't grabbed it and saved her date from the broken glass. Tanya looks up at her, eyes full of gratitude.

" Th-Thank you," She says, her cheeks flushed and breath slightly labored.

Cleo notices her nerves, and it doesn't exactly line up with first date jitters.