Eternal Reflection

A digital space that exists out of time, where memories can be immortalised and remain the same, even as you change
The grass itches our legs and arms as we lie on it. We rest on the lawn in the glare of the bright summer sun, our faces upturned as though we can suddenly develop the ability to photosynthesise. There are tiny white flowers growing in clumps around us and now, thanks to me, also tucked into the curls of her hair. The stems are almost too short for them to stay, but they somehow manage. “Nixie”, she says. She laughs and shakes her head to dislodge them, but they stay. They stay even as we sit up and pack our things back into our bags and make our way back to class. They stay through History and Maths and English and only as she walks away from me and down the hill, does the first flower fall.












It’s dark around us, too dark to see anything beyond the barest outline of her face in front of mine as we curl up together underneath the blanket. My feet are tucked in between her calves and one of her arms is wrapped around my waist. Our whispers are the only noise besides the soft snores coming from the bed next to us and the occasional groan from the blow-up mattress when one of us shifts. There’s only one pillow for the two of us and we’re close enough together that I can smell the rose-scented hand cream she uses. We talk about the day we had and our friends’ love lives and how this house is definitely haunted by old farmers. The world seems smaller here in this cocoon of just us and our thoughts in the dark as we slowly drift off to sleep.











The light of the afternoon sun filters through the dingy windows and makes its way past the flats in strips, doing its best to ward off the chill that hangs, almost permanently, in the space behind the stairs. Our music plays out of the speakers of her old computer and it’s not quite loud enough to fill the entire space or drown out the sounds of feet on the floor. The carpet deadens each impact but is coarse enough that our knees and palms and soles are still grazed and bloodied as we turn and twist and tumble our way across the room and back again. Some of the movements happen naturally, like one of my hands interlocking with one of hers as she pulls me to my feet and into a jump. While my hands bracketing her face and pushing, feels almost alien. We continue like this, over and over, until we forget which limbs belong to which body and that they ever didn’t belong to us together.