It had never been like this at any other time. No one had ever crawled under her skin to this extent. Close to obsession, it walked a step in front of her, just out of reach, always. She couldn't sleep through a night without waking with the thought of him drifting through her battered half-dreams. Restless in a tangle of sheets, she turned toward the window, wanting a tiny respite from the constancy of need.
Hanging high in the upper window pane was a fabled blue moon. A true blue moon. Was it a fortunate omen or the cause of her disquiet? Giving up hope of sleep, she rose from her bed and wrapping herself in her wrinkled sheet, made her way outside into the cool blue night. She stood in the wet grass, breathing the sweet air, willing her mind to let go. Eyes closed, she felt her thoughts cease their rolling and tumbling. Finally, free of desire. Standing cold and white like a statue under that moon. Free and empty.
After a time, she forced herself to open her eyes again, to look straight into that low heavy blue. One by one the lost thoughts found her, wisps of him weaving their way back home. Images of his hands strumming the strings of a guitar, fingers guiding a pen across a white page or brushing paint onto canvas. His voice, the color of his eyes, the scent of him. The heartbeat just under his jawline, the curve of lips. She'd been captured once again. No longer free but no longer empty.
She turned and walked slowly back inside, looking one last time over her shoulder at the big low moon. Suddenly she stopped, the breath leaving her body as she saw him standing there in the light. Her freedom and her possessor. She took his hand, skin on skin, and led him to her tumbled bed on that rare blue night.