Orbit.
I look away from the spinning blades of the fan to watch their eyes move in synchrony across the flickering light of the notebook display. I cannot decipher the verbal shorthand that passes between them as they skip from site to site in search of visual inspiration, but it conveys every nuance they need.
"See?", Spyder says, his eyes moving to the left in unison with Spyke's.
"Is it...?" Spyke begins, without intention or need to end.
"Yeah."
"What about..."
"Over here."
"Yeah. Cool."
From my vantage point on the floor I gaze up at them lounging on the sofa. Spyder holds the notebook firmly balanced on his lap while Spyke is sprawled lengthwise, his feet dangling over the sofa's arm. They may not be in physical contact--I can't tell--but they sit so close to each other that were any other man to do so he would surely be pushed away.
I look back to the ceiling fan as I reflect that they are always like this, ever in orbit around each other, one volatile and brilliant, the other steady and bright. They are, I think, a microcosm complete, with no other need. And I lay on the floor in my orbit of one, and watch the blades spin in the flickering light.
"See?", Spyder says, his eyes moving to the left in unison with Spyke's.
"Is it...?" Spyke begins, without intention or need to end.
"Yeah."
"What about..."
"Over here."
"Yeah. Cool."
From my vantage point on the floor I gaze up at them lounging on the sofa. Spyder holds the notebook firmly balanced on his lap while Spyke is sprawled lengthwise, his feet dangling over the sofa's arm. They may not be in physical contact--I can't tell--but they sit so close to each other that were any other man to do so he would surely be pushed away.
I look back to the ceiling fan as I reflect that they are always like this, ever in orbit around each other, one volatile and brilliant, the other steady and bright. They are, I think, a microcosm complete, with no other need. And I lay on the floor in my orbit of one, and watch the blades spin in the flickering light.