ANTHEM OF LIFE
Jeremy walks along a building, sweeping the space at his feet with his cane. He stops short when he touches what sounds like the entrance to a closed door. Sitting at a table inside the café, Sarah observes Jeremy, smiling and curious as the young man passing by on the other side of the window. Jeremy enters the café when a robotic voice asks him to immediately use the small automatic sink located to his left. He starts to search with his hands for the wipes generally placed near these sinks for people like him who use a cane or a wheelchair. He wipes the handle of his cane with great care before holding it between his legs. He washes and dries his hands then slips them under the machine above the sink. "No virus detected," the device exclaims.
A waiter comes to welcome Jeremy.
"Do you have a reservation?" The waiter asks in a warm voice.
"No, but I'm expecting someone," Jeremy replies to the waiter without looking up at him. Jeremy is wearing small dark glasses.
No sooner has he answered the waiter than he hears a whistle coming from his right, like the song of a small bird. Jeremy smiles then adds to the waiter:
"I think the person I'm waiting for is already here."
Then, he begins to move along, guided by his cane in the direction of the small whistle which continues as if to encourage each of his steps. Jeremy's cane hits someone's foot.
"Sarah?" He asks, smiling, excited, and curious.
Sarah makes a last small whistle in agreement. She puts her hands on the table, then drags them gently on the surface to help her get up. The fabric of her dress is as light as the air that surrounds them. She takes a few steps towards him then she stops in front of him, breath to breath.
"You look much better with some hair!" Sarah exclaims, smiling while Jeremy bursts out laughing.
Sarah starts laughing too.
"And me? Can you let me see you?" He says after a short silence.
Sarah gently grips the young man's cane to place it against the table before moving closer to him. Then, she takes his hands to bring them slowly to her face and place them on her cheeks. They feel round and warm. Jeremy's hands wander over the landscape of the young woman's face. He isn't in a foreign land; he knows those hills and valleys well for having contemplated them for a long time when he still had his device. Like an artist inspired by divine creation, Jeremy sculpts Sarah's features with his nimble hands: her cheeks, her nose, the outline of her lips, her chin, the outline of her face. The young man's face darkens as his fingers hover over two long scars on the young woman's cheeks.
"My war medals with the children of God," Sarah exclaims, smiling. "I wanted to keep them to remind me," she adds more seriously. "Besides, Stephan doesn't have any so they make us very different," she finally said in a mocking tone.
Jeremy smiled tenderly at the young woman, amused by her last statement. He finally arrives at the border of Sarah's forehead at the limit between her face and her hair. Intrigued, he lets his hands venture beyond the border of the young woman's face to reach out the ocean of hair. Short, curly hair that spills like reckless waves rolling tirelessly against Sarah's face. Jeremy has no words to describe the new wonder at his fingertips. He just smiles stupidly before pulling Sarah gently against him to hug her very tightly. The warmth of life against his own; the rhythm of life against his own; they are alive; they are life. They have no reason to be afraid of not being able to pass through the door where they stand. They know that there has never been any door anyway, neither between them, nor between anyone.
The End
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