Dust

by Tony Spencer

The highs are so high. The lows are so low. The two go hand in hand. This is Jeannie's world now. This is her existence. There is no before. No after. There is only this now she is trapped in. The highs, and the lows. Two faces of her world. They are so closely linked, both faces of her addiction, and yet the gulf between them seems so wide.

At first it seemed like a crack. Some small fissure she could easily bridge. She was wrong. When she finally realised this, Jeannie can't remember. It was already too late. The only way for her to bridge this gap, this emptiness inside her, was to fill it with drugs. The easy stuff at first. That made her whole for a time.

But slowly the gap widened, it's edges growing so far apart, that no amount could even hope to touch them. The edges were so sharp, they cut her. Made her bleed inside. She had to stop it. Jeannie moved onto better things. They numbed her pain. Made the emptiness seem bearable again. Made it less or so it seemed.

The gap never closed, however. It never will. She knows that now. It never really changed. Only the drugs changed. As the gap got wider, the drugs got stronger, and everything seemed right. They made her so high. What the world outside saw didn't matter. Nothing mattered by this time, but what she felt inside. The gap seemed to close, but it never really changed. Only the drugs changed. Only her perspective changed.

When you're high up, everything seems so small. Jeannie knows. Now she knows. Because now she's starting to fall. There is nothing to reach for. No next step. No way out. She's falling, tumbling in slow motion within herself, with so far left to fall. Day by day, her fear grows. Nothing is more real to her, than this chasm inside her. It is all she sees. Opening, wider and wider.

There is nothing she can do. She would tear herself apart, trying to bridge it by herself. It will swallow her whole, when she eventually reaches that place. It will devour her as greedily, as thanklessly, as everything she gave it in the past. She can't give up. Can't accept that end. Jeannie just has to try to please it somehow. Maybe it just wants more. Maybe that will somehow slow her descent. That is her only hope. That is the closest thing to hope she has.

But nothing is free in this world. She learnt that lesson long ago. Everything has a price.

So here she is. Standing outside on this cold, grey night. Just another of the faces that can be seen, lining the streets of this cold, grey city. Just another of those stories, nobody wants to hear. Nobody comes to this place to talk. It is something else that brings them here. She feels naked. Invisible, standing in the harsh yellow glow of the streetlight. Nobody sees her. Not the real her. The faces in the cars do not change, as they slowly drive past her. That same look remains the whole time. Coldly appraising. When their eyes meet hers, there is no recognition as another human being. To them she is an object. Nothing more. Made to serve only one purpose. Some look away, as if ashamed to be here, and accelerate into the darkness. Others dismiss her, simply moving their gaze onwards as if Jeannie were not even there. Nobody stops.

An hour passes. Now, she comes back into herself, as if wakening from a dream, and realising the horrible choice she has made. Could have made. This is her first time. She can still end all of this. She can just go home, and pretend nothing happened. Yes! That's what she'll do. Go back to the apartment. The warmth. The safety. But that's not all that waits for her there. The responsibilities that just seem to be drowning her lately. The bills. This months rent. Food. She makes just enough on the benefit now to cover these things, but there is one small detail.

They're not important. Filling the gap is more important to her than these basic needs. It has eaten her savings away, and it will not stop there. It demands to be fed, whatever the cost. And she must do it. She has no choice. She will live on the street if she has to, as long as the gap is filled. That's just the way it is. Jeannie's relief swiftly drains away, leaving only a numb feeling, as clod and unshakable as the logic of the monster within her.

The tears come now. Rolling slowly down her face. They glisten pink and blue with reflected neon light. She brings up a hand to wipe them away, but even this action is too much. The numbness that filled her body drains away, leaving only emptiness. She crumples, nothing inside her able to support the weight of this reality that so suddenly enclosed her. She sits cross-legged on the footpath, head in her hands. The cold forgotten. Everything forgotten except the emptiness. She can block it out. The world outside, she can block out. It isn't important anymore. It isn't real. Only the emptiness is real to Jeannie now. It is her world.

But then she feels it. Jeannie doesn't know how long she's been here like this, tears warm against her hands, in this cold street on this cold night, but it's there all the same. The gentle pressure of a hand on her shoulder. Now an arm around her, steadying her. Bringing her close. With the arm, a jacket was also draped across her shoulders. For a moment, this touch, this warmth, this feeling is everything she needs. Too good to question. But then she remembers where she is, and pulls away a little. Jeannie slowly turns her head to see him kneeling beside her. His eyes, full of compassion. Black and sparkling like stones from a riverbed. They seem to penetrate deep inside her, as if it's her soul he's looking into.

"Who are you?" She asks, when words come again.

"A friend. That's all you need to know for now." His voice is as sincere as the rest of his face. Jeannie feels no need to doubt his words. "Come with me. This is the last place a girl like you belongs. You're too good for this. You know that." There is a car pulled up at the kerb, engine still running. She does not resist as he takes her hand and leads her from that pool of light. Leaving a gap for another to fill.

She sinks into the passenger seat, as if that short distance was an ordeal for her. The street is almost beautiful from here, looking out. The neon signs look brighter. More real. More clear. That's how it's always been for her. From a distance, all her dreams have been like that. Only when she follows them, has been close enough to almost touch them, does she reallise just how false they've been. But now things have changed. Jeannie feels safe, insulated from the world outside.

"I've never seen you out there before." He says, reaching to touch the heater controls and unleash a blast of warm air. It feels like paradise, dressed as she is. The jacket was nothing compared to this. Jeannie feels it soak through every piece of exposed skin, seeming even to soothe the chill inside her, which the cold night air has nothing to do with. Then they are moving.

"This is my first time." She replies, attention focused mainly on a vanity mirror, mounted on the back of the sun visor on her side. Now that the crying has stopped, she uses the tissues she fishes from her handbag to clear her face of tear-smeared makeup.

"I figured that. Beginners are pretty easy to spot, if you know what to look for. I'd have to say, you were easier than most." Jeannie doesn't ask him what he means. She reaches into the bag once more, and comes out now with a makeup case. "Don't worry about that." He glances over at her before focusing on the road again. "You don't need it."

She sees no point in arguing. "The customer is always right, I guess."

The man glances at her again, for an instant. "I'm not your customer. I'm doing you a favour."

Now, the fear begins. Jeannie feels it, like a trickle of ice water down her spine. "Where are you taking me?"

This time he doesn't even bother to look away from the road with its ribbon of white stripes, looping over and over in the cars headlights. "You'll see when we get there. I've got something to show you. I just know you're going to like it." That voice is as kind and sincere as ever, but now that only adds to the sense of unreality Jeannie finds herself floating in.

What can she do? The thought of opening the door and jumping out flashes through her mind, but the car is going much too fast. She would merely be selecting a more immediate death, than the one that could await her. And what if the fall doesn't kill her? What then? The further they travel, the dimmer their surroundings become. The lights grow fewer. The buildings more thinly populated. Soon the streets seem deserted. What if nobody hears her screams? What if he just leaves her there to die? And now the thought comes, rises unwelcome from the depths of her mind. What if he doesn't?

No. That is not an option. It occurs to Jeannie now, that even if he slows enough from here on to give her an opening, a moment to act, freedom will be shortlived anyway. Escape to what? The car could easily chase her down in this place, so quiet and empty. She has nowhere to hide. Nobody to run to.

The fear has not yet overwhelmed her. It spreads like fingers of ice through her mind, seizing all unnecessary thoughts. Only one stays constant to her now. Survival. How can she come out of this alive? Adrenaline stretches the journey out. Makes every minute seem like an hour. Gives her time to decide. There is only one thing she can do. Try to reason with him.

"You don't have to go through with this, you know? It's not too late. Please. Why don't you just take me back, let me out, and we can both just forget this ever happened." Jeannie just hopes her voice is steadier than it sounds inside her head.

"No." He says, checking the rear-view mirror now. "It will be too late for you if I don't do this. I want to save you, and this is the only way. You have to trust me."

Finally, the car begins to lose speed. Slower and slower. Now he pulls a sharp left, and tuckes into the alleyway between two warehouses. Their pale grey walls stretch out to either side of her, onwards and upwards, shadows darkening, eventually merging with the greater darkness. Jeannie realises that her chance to escape is gone. He has parked so close to one of the buildings, that the passenger side door will be unable to open. She is trapped. Then the headlights are off, plunging her into darkness.

"So here we are." He says, reaching up and switching on the interior lamp. The harsh directional light, throwing every shadow into stark contrast, makes his face look strange. Evil. He smiles now. That voice hasn't changed at all. "Would you like to open the glove box for me?"

Jeannie does as she is told. Or tries to. Her fingers grip the handle and pull, but nothing happens. The door remains closed. She looks from it to him, a question in her eyes. Then, something resting on his leg attracts her attention. It wasn't there before. A handle, moulded to fit comfortably in the hand. With a thin stripe of steel at its center, and a piece of black plastic attatched on either side. Seeing the tiny releasing stud on its side, she knows what it is. Now the panic comes. It presses on her from all sides, set like concrete, restricting her completely. Jeannie can do nothing but look from his face, to it, and back again.

The smile is gone now. It is replaced by a look of concern, matched in those dark eyes. "Oh shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that - I forgot it was locked." He takes the keys out of the ignition, and gives them to her. "Now try." With trembling hands, Jeannie slides the key into the glovebox lock, and turns it. This time, it opens. "Okay, now take out what you see."

She does. A small mirror. A straw made out of glass. And a small clear resealable plastic bag. It is the bag that keeps hold of her attention. It is full of powder. The texture through the plastic is the same as what Jeannie is used to, but its weight and colour are far different to anything she's ever seen. Although the bag is more or less packed full, it feels as if she's holding a feather in her hand. Even more fascinating, is its colour. The powder catches the light, glittering in a thousand shades of gold, which change and dance as she turns it in her hand. It makes her think of dust, caught in a ray of sunlight.

"What is it?" Jeannie asks, her fear forgotten. Everything forgotten but what she holds in her hands.

"It's everything you want." He says, without a trace of doubt in his eyes. "It's what I brought you here to show you. I had to be careful. Had to make sure we'd be safe. Some would kill for just a little of this."

He takes the bag from her. Places the mirror on the console between their seats. Carefully opening the bag, he now has the switchblade in his other hand. With a click, the blade shows itself, light bleeding along its deadly edge. Its tip is slowly buried within the powder, and then removed, covered with gold. Now, he taps it onto the mirror, leaving a small glittering mound. After sealing the bag he shapes it, forming a line which splits Jeannie's reflected face.

"Well?" He says, expectantly. "Are you going to try it, or did I choose the wrong person? I mean, I'd love to sit and talk all night, but-"

"All right. Okay, I will." Jeannie twists in her seat, shifting position so her legs are curled on the floor beneath her. Slowly, she places the end of the straw inside her nose, and lowers it to hover almost touching the mirror. Looking up, their eyes meet for a moment, and then she breaks this link. Instead, she sees that golden line. It is soon gone.

"So, what do you think?" He asks after a time, watching as she reclines in her seat, eyes closed. Her bliss is obvious. A smile splits Jeannie's face once more.

"Wow..." Is all that comes. It is a feeling impossible to describe. Too immense to put into words. The emptiness remains. If anything, it has grown. Spread throughout her. Enveloped her. It is no longer a separate part of her, a weakness trapped inside. It's as if she's dissolving, becoming weightless. Jeannie feels barely solid. Barely here. Light enough almost to float away through the cool night air, and yet so strong. So powerful. So real.

"Okay, you can tell me later then. You're the first I've shared this with, and I just want to know if it's the same. But now," He says, starting the car and reversing into the street. "It's time I took you home. Where do you live?"

This is information easy enough for Jeannie to give. It is always the same. Not like the feeling that flows through her, constantly changing. Evolving. She could not describe it, because even as the words formed within her mind, before she could take hold of them, capture them in speech, they were hollow. Without meaning. When she touched them, they crumbled, fragments to be lost within the silence.

"Well, here it is." He says, the building floating out of the darkness after what might have been an hour, just a few minutes, or any length of time. It doesn't matter anymore. The hands of her watch cannot reach her. Cannot hold her, or this feeling she has. This is good. Without time, beginning and end mean nothing. But she doesn't feel trapped anymore. Oh no. Now she feels free.

The car stops just in front of the main entrance. He steps out, onto the street where his breath hangs, a white mist in the air. Walking around, he holds Jeannie's door open. This is the first time anyone has done something like this for her. Really done anything for her. For a moment, she didn't know how to react, but now they stand. Face to face outside the place that she calls home.

"Thankyou-" Is all she can think to say for now. Before more can come, a silencing finger touches her lips.

"Don't" I didn't have a choice, you have to understand that. I just couldn't let you fall."

Jeannie can only smile. "God it's cold out here, and I've got your jacket. You must be freezing! You wanna come up and have some coffee or something? So you can thaw out before you go?"

He fixes her with those eyes again. "Okay, sure. It's not over yet anyway, you know?"

Now it is her turn to lead. Up the wide stone steps at the front of the building, a hotel once upon a time, but which has fallen through the years and the hands of many owners, to the level at which it now operates. It is simply the husk of a better day. The steps convey them to an entranceway which, although once welcoming, is now a toothless smile cut into this pale grey sun-bleached stone. Once impressive, but as deas as the dreams of those who built it. They walk past two flanking rows of columns which support the weight of the overhanging floors, the chill here even more intense because the sun never reaches this far. At the double doors, Jeannie uses her key to open a deadbolt, chrome gleaming in the dim light from outside, contrasting sharply with the original wooden frame in which it sits. These are far more dangerous times. The sound of the bolt sliding home as the door closes behind is a reminder.

"My apartment's on the tenth floor." Jeannie puts her hand on his shoulder as he turns resignedly towards the stairway. "No, we can take the elevator. It's perfectly safe - this place just looks worse than it is."

After sixty years the machinery still does its work, although not without some sounds of protest, amplified by the silence and confined space. This no longer concerns her, but glancing from the slowly rising floor counter into Jeannie's watching eyes, he can only smile and look away. "Sounds worse than it is too, I guess."

The elevator opens with a parting creak. She takes him further, to a door like all the others. Another key. Another lock, and now it stands open. Jeannie takes a step into the darkness beyone. Half turns, feeling along the wall. An apologetic look is ready to surface even before the light comes on, but it is forgotten. His smile silences her doubts.

"Well, come in." She says, standing just inside. "I know it isn't much, but-"

"There's no need to defend it." He says, following her. "I think you've got a nice place."

The sincerity is still there, but maybe he can just lie better than most. "Good try." She says, closing the door behind him. "It sounded like you'd even convinced yourself. There's no need to be polite, though. I live here. I should know."

"I'm not lying, listen to me. Rich houses say nothing about who lives in them. They're all fake. All they care about is image. But I can tell this," His hand sweeps to cover the room they're in. "is just so much a part of you. It's real. That's why I like it."

"Thankyou." Jeannie says once more, meeting his eyes as she slowly takes off the jscket he gave her. "So, it's about time for that coffee now, I guess..."

"If coffee still means coffee, then sure. We've got a lot left to talk about."

"Well then," She says, moving to turn on the tv as she always does, to fill in the silence. "Make yourself comfortable, and I'll be there in a minute." Now even this most routine of tasks seems fresh, exciting somehow, as if she's doing it for the first time. "Oh yeah-" Jeannie says, leaning on the L-shaped benchtop which divides kitchen from the main living space. "How do you have yours?"

He looks away from the screen in the corner, over the back of the couch to where she stands. "Black. No sugar."

Coming back with two steaming hot cups, Jeannie can see the mirror waiting on her coffee table, hidden from view until now by the couch. Random images dance along its surface, changing and shifting with every moment. Only the dust, that glittering golden line, remains constant.

"I want to know how if feels." He says, resting straw beside the mirror once more before relaxing, allowing himself to sink back into the soft cushion. "I want to know if it feels the same for you. I have to."

The feeling is the same. The problem is the same. "It's like..." She begins, but then it is lost. All she can do is shake her head. Like what? How can she describe it when it only gets stronger? Larger. Her words can't change, or somehow grow to mean more, so the feeling only becomes further beyond their reach. "I'm sorry. I just need to think." Jeannie knows the answer will come with time, but the anticipation in his eyes only makes her want the answer to be there. Now. She needs a distraction. Maybe it will come to her if she has something to make the weight of those eyes on her seem less. It's the only solution she can think of for now. Leaning foward, she reaches to take the remote from its place on the table.

An evangelist appears. He tells them that heaven is God's reward for those who choose to follow the path of righteousness. Those who remember that everything happens according to His will, and no matter how their faith is tested, know that heaven will be the reward for all their suffering. "There are easier paths, but only one is right." Who is he to judge her? Anyone? He is being paid to say this. With every word, he isolates himself from the suffering, the hardships of which he speaks. She presses a button to silence him. Another, and that face staring out full of disapproval, is gone.

But now, another takes its place. hunger has aged him, the innocence of youth in his eyes not seeming to beling in that gaunt, old man's face. Those eyes. Sadness. Fear. Pain. For one brief moment, Jeannie sees them in his eyes, but then she notices something else. Hope. Despite his suffering, hope still shines there, a light which no shadow could hide. It is all he has. It hurts to think that, in the hearts of countless others like him, that same hope will remain when the boy is gone. And now he is. But those eyes stay with her, and knowing they belong to a stranger in a place she will never see, makes them no easier to forget.

Another channel. Another. This isn't working. The tv was meant to help her. Meant to help relieve the pressure on her thoughts, not to add the burden of other problems. Other questions. It is a window to a world she'd rather now see. But the choice between looking at the screen, or into the eyes if the man sitting beside her, is an easy one. That is why she keeps searching. Growing more random. Paying less attention. And then she sees it. A flash of colour among the darkness. There, and gone. Jeannie had almost given up. The moment almost passed by unnoticed, but now she slowly retraces. Back. And again. It occurs to her that maybe it was never there at all, but with one more tough there it is.

At first she saw the darkness. The shadow, that has stretched over all her life. Reality. Every dream, every hope that could have lit Jeannie's way through these times, given her a path to follow, has met the same fate. Just when they seemed complete, when she thought they could be something to hold onto, reality came crashing down. Left her lost. Blind, while her dreams crumbled into nothing around her. That's what she saw. Fingers made of cold black shapes and hard edges, reaching upwards towards the moon as if to clutch it. To steal its light, as it stole her own. Another dark, cruel city.

But that had not been all. She saw something else. Something that could not, should not have been. But it is. With her focus, the picture has changed. The city is still there, made of shadows, made of stone, but they are rising above it. Rising, children full of innocence. Full of power. The city cannot touch them. Reality cannot touch them.

"That!" Jeannie points at the five as they fly away through Disney skies. High above a world of pen and ink. "I know how that would feel!"

"That, is everything I wanted to know." He drains the last of the coffee and leans forwards to place the cup on the table. Looking away from Jeannie and back to the screen for a moment, now he stands up, smiling with satisfaction. "I should be going now. I won't keep you any longer."

"Hey!" She says rising, catching up with him a few steps from the door. "What about that... That stuff? You're just going to leave it here?"

"Keep it." He says with a little shake of his head. "There's more where that came from." He turns again to leave the room, but Jeannie's hand on his shoulder stops him.

"No. This isn't right. This doesn't feel right. At least let me give you something..."

"You want to give me something?" Those eyes travel slowly up and down, before meeting hers again. "Okay- that necklace you're wearing."

"Is that all?"

"All I want."

Meeting his eyes, she reaches up and back, undoing the latch that rests against the back of her neck, and eases closer to him. Now, the chain dangling golden from her hand, she brings her arms down and inwards in one fluid motion, embracing him. Holding him close as her lips search for his.

They touch. So softly. So gently. His lips part against hers, and the link is complete. Slowly, carefully Jeannie explores, as if afraid that any sudden movement will break this spell. It is a feeling, a happiness, unlike any she has known before. There is magic here. It flows between them, through this place where they dance, twist and glide together. She can feel herself draining away, becoming a part of him. She can feel it - her lips tingle with it. But at the same time, she can feel him, his energy flowing into her, filling places in her soul nothing had been able to reach before. This cycle continues, until at last she feels too empty? Too full? To continue. As softly as she began, she breaks off the kiss.

Only to take a breath. Only to ready herself for the next. It wasn't meant to be the end. Why? Why are his hands resting on her shoulders, gently but firmly holding her away? Jeannie can't ask. All she can do is look, confused, into his eyes.

"No. You don't owe me anything more. Knowing that you're happy is all I need."

"But..." Is all she has time to say.

"Goodbye." Letting his arms fall from her shoulders and his eyes fall from hers, he turns, and this time Jeannie lets him go.

"But I love you..." She whispers, too late. She is alone. The door has closed behind him...

That night, Jeannie has a dream. She is standing out on the balcony, her usual retreat when times are hard. From here, high above the chaos of the streets below, the world seems like a different place. From here, she doesn't have to face the city. Doesn't have to face reality. She can look out, over the glass and the steel and the concrete, and see the horizon. The answer to her every question, the happiness that has eluded her all her life, is out there. Waiting beyond that distant, indistinct line where earth meets sky. It must be. She believes. Because if it isn't there, then what point in living?

The sound of traffic rises, ending her peace. Replacing her visions of what might be, some other time, some other place; with the noise and confusion of the here and now. Her attention is drawn downwards. Down to where they scurry, constantly moving, constantly flowing in some strange, meaningless pattern back and forth. People. So many of them, living their normal lives. But from up here, they look like rats. They look like rats, and the city is a cage. None of them can see it. None of them understand. Except Jeannie. And she is trapped here. Just like all the others.

Now, there is another sound. A cry, sharp and clear and pure enough, to cut through everything else. To reach a part of her, nothing else could. She looks up, and sees an eagle. An eagle, flying alone through the deep blue sky. And the eagle has what men have fought, killed and died for, but will never know. It is truly free. Free. To go wherever it chooses. To follow its heart.

The same breeze that carries the eagle, keeps it wheeling and diving so far from the people trapped below, caresses Jeannie. It traces along her skin, through her clothes, through her hair, like so many cool, gentle fingers. It whispers to her like a lover. The eagle's joins this seductive call. Together, they are irresistable. Slowly, using one of the corner poles for support, she climbs onto the railing framing the balcony. Now she stands, balanced so high above it all. The grey reality that greets her looking down, is nothing compared to that place above. Full of mystery. Full of hope. Her decision made, she closes her eyes, and lets go...

Jeannie wakes now, refreshed. The dream remains with her, slowly fading into a mist, without detail or reason. Without anything but this feeling. Nothing can hold her down. She needs to create no reason, no special purpose, to drag herself out of bed now. That soft golden glow is enough. This is the first time she has risen with the sun in a long time.

She has a shower, the hot water washing away those last traces of sleep, of the dream, but the feeling remains. Dressing, feeling the soft, light touch of satin against her skin once again. She can't remember the last time she wore this dress, or why she kept it hung up, shut away for so long. It makes her feel special. This is a special day. In the mirror, that face, the eyes which for once don't show the hollowness behind her smile, seems not to belong to her.

Walking into the living room, she throws open the curtains, letting those golden rays the sun brings from over the horizon shine in, through the sliding glass door that looks onto the balcony. The railing is a sketch in thick black lines against it. Jeannie rests her hand on the doors handle and unlocks it with a click, allowing it to glide open with her touch. Now she steps outside, into the morning air. Feels the gentle breeze. The warmth of the sun, as it begins its journey through a sky full of freedom. Full of hope. She looks down at the city, and then up. Up...

Where she belongs?

Enough. That was a dream. She remembers now, remembers that she's seen all this before. It was all a dream. Nothing more. This is reality. That feeling fades now. The illusion fades.

What if it hadn't? The thought comes to Jeannie now, taking her inside, shutting both door and curtains before she flops back onto the couch. They can block the view from her sight, but not from her thoughts. What could have happened? This question, she can't answer. Won't let herself answer, because there is only one end. One possibility. How close had she been? What if she'd realized what she was doing a moment later? More questions follow. Still more. She has answers to none of them. She needs to make them go away. Needs to numb herself to them.

Sitting on the coffee table, mellow gold in the curtain filtered light, the dust captures her attention. She reaches for it, carefully opening the bag. Only now does she see her mistake. Only now does she stop herself. This, is what she blames for all that's happened. This could have killed her. And now, this is the only thing that can ease her fear? What's wrong with her? Jeannie stares at it, a thousand dancing, twinkling shades of gold. How can something so beautiful, be so dangerous? She doesn't want to hold it anymore. Doesn't want to be tempted. As she places it back on the table, she sees its contents shift. Sees it part, to expose the edge of something white. A small folded square of paper.

Opening it, she sees a phone number...

Day is bleeding into night. As its light slowly dies, the sun stains the skies to the west red. White crested ranks of waves march towards the shore, their steady rhythm keeping time. Time. It has been inescapable today. Jeannie had tried to find something to do after hanging up the phone, tried to find some way to fill in the void that lay between then, and the time he had arranged to meet her here on the beach, but always her eyes returned to the clock. Watching the second hand, travelling slowly in its endless circuit.

Still she must wait, it seems. Behind, the taxi that brought her here continues on its way, engine noise rising, then fading into the distance. She is alone. The sea gently breathes upon her, but there is no freedom in this breeze now. Only cold, and salt. There is no illusion now.

As the sun sinks, the shadows reach, further and further, Jeannie becomes uneasy. There are too many places around here to hide a pair of watching eyes. Too many places where different shades of darkness blend, forming a pool that seems almost to ooze along the ground, spreading outwards as the sunlight dies. She sees all this, as the sea whispers secrets beyond.

Where is he? How long has it been? Without thinking, she adjusts the right cuff of her coat to reveal a bare wrist. Her watch is at home. Before, the ticking clock, those slow, sweeping hands, had seemed to draw everything out. Now, time seems to be passing much too quickly.

He isn't coming. Time has made this possibility, into a certainty. She could stand here for hours more, but it would make no difference. He has forgotten her.

Turning her back on the glowing embers of the day, Jeannie gives a startled little scream. There he is. Standing no more than a step away from her. The scream gives way to a short burst of nervous laughter, which gives way to silence and the sea.

"You sounded pretty nervous on the phone this morning." he says, walking a couple of steps towards the sea, so Jeannie must turn towards him once more. He looks at her face, into her eyes, the dim light still enough to see clearly. "What's wrong?"

Reaching into her pocket, she takes out the bag and the dust it contains, and holds it out. "Here. I don't want this anymore."

"Why?" He asks, without moving to take it from her. "What happened?"

"I..." The word hangs there, as Jeannie looks out towards the breakers, and then back, fresh tears in her eyes. "I nearly killed myself."

"How?" Now his hands touch her face, softly wiping them away. "How did it happen?"

"Last night, I had a dream." She pauses, waits for the crying to stop. "I dreamed that I could step off my balcony without dying. Without falling ten floors, or at all. I dreamed that I could fly. I felt so free then, you know? For once in my life, everything was right."

"What happened then?"

"When I woke up I still had that feeling. It just stayed with me. I don't know how or why, but it was there. I went out onto the balcony. I ended up going and standing out there, leaning against the railing, before I knew what was happening. If I had realised a moment later, I could have already climbed over and then..." She doesn't need to finish the sentence. "Anyway, this belongs to you."

He takes the bag from her this time. Now she has done what she came for. Jeannie turns and takes the first steps back towards the road, to catch a ride home.

"Wait!" He says, opening the bag and placing it against his mouth, inhaling a small cloud of dust. He must run a few steps to reach her, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. Turns her towards him, into his arms.

Jeannie doesn't resist. After a moment of surprise, she opens herself to him, savouring every moment as his lips touch hers. Softly, he breathes into her, letting some of the dust flow between them. Closing her eyes, she feels that sweet wave of emptiness as it travels into her lungs, and spreads through her whole body, every vein, every nerve, from the inside out. Such a feeling. Better than before. Like she is drifting, high above it all. Free and safe in his embrace.

"Open your eyes." He whispers in her ear.

She does. At first, the view is as she expected. The city. The last rays of dying light reflected in the glass, slowly giving way to the shadow as the darkness spreads, night taking its hold over the earth once more. A scene she has seen often from out on the balcony, high above the street. Here, the realisation comes.

He can feel her body tense against his. Hears her gasp. Understands her fear. All he does is hold her tighter, waits for her to relax once more.

Looking down, Jeannie sees the world has fallen away from them. Left them hanging here, the cold hard earth no longer beneath their feet. This is impossible. She knows this. But the cool air still streams around them. The ground still recedes slowly into shadow. Now she looks away from all this, and into his eyes.

"How?" Is all she can say. Such an immense feeling of wonder, but this small word is all that comes to her.

"This is all I wanted to give you." He says, as under his control they turn, giving Jeannie a view of everything around them. The sun has slipped away now. Glittering, scattered like diamonds on a cloth of black velvet, the first stars shine overhead. Joining the carpet of lights that stretches below. "This is no dream. Just believe." He loostens his grip on her slightly now.

"Don't let me fall." Her arms lock, rigid around him. "You said you wouldn't let me fall." There is a note of panic in her voice.

He brings her closer again. He brushes her cheek, tracing a gentle line along her skin until he finds a sweeter, moister place. Once more he exhales softly, allowing more of the energy to flow between them. Wanting to silence the doubt within her. At first this is his purpose, but he finds himself becoming hungrier. His passion, his curiosity grows with every moment. Every touch. She meets him at every level. Finally, he pulls away.

This is the moment. Again, he begins to loosten his grip. She looks at him, apprehension in her eyes, but not the fear he saw before. "Just relax." He says, soothingly. "Just believe."

"I don't know if I can..."

"Trust me. Hold my hand, and if you start to fall, I'll be right there to catch you. Okay?"

Jeannie nods, and for a second her right arm pulls him closer, while her other hand searches for his. Finding it she pauses, taking another look up at the stars and the pale ghostly moon, and at the city so far below.

"Very slowly now, I'm going to let go with this arm, and I want you to do the same. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She feels the gentle touch of his hand travelling along her back, as he withdraws the supporting arm from beneath her shoulders. Gradually, she allows herself to release him. The grip of her other hand on his grows firmer, the less the pressure holding them together becomes. Now it is complete - her arm trails through empty space. Still they are eye to eye.

"Do you see? There's nothing to fear. You're free now." He follows her gaze to where their hands are joined, and looks back to her face. "You don't need me. The power is as much a part of you as me. Just believe. Belief is all you need."

"Promise you'll save me if I fall..." Without looking away from his eyes, from the starlight reflected in the blackness there, Jeannie slowly relaxes her grasp.

"I promise." He says, feeling the skin of her hand slide smooth against his, the contact between them growing less. For a moment only their fingertips linger together, and then this feeling too is gone.

"I'm still here." She says breathlessly, looking first at her hands, then down and around at the forgotten world below and the stars that shine so brightly. "I'm still here!" Every word is now an exclaimation. To him. To herself. To the whole world entire.

"You're right, but there's no need to stay here. We're free, remember?" He soars away from her, high into the night sky. A shadow amongst shadow, he turns and swoops back down to where she hangs. "Follow me. There's so much to see."

"What do I do?"

"Just let yourself flow. Imagine where you want to go, and the rest is easy." He rises a short distance, and looks back over his shoulder. "Well?"

Jeannie's eyes search above him, focusing on the place where Orion stands, his body formed by points of light. Orion. He will guide her. He will light her path. Now she concentrates. Wills herself onwards, towards the hunter. Towards the place he has stood, forever silent. Forever still. But she is moving.

Upwards. Further and further she moves. Feels the cold air parting before her. Sees the waiting figure grow larger and closer, until they are face to face once more. Now she stops.

"You've got it!" He says with a laugh. "Now just watch me. See where I am, and let yourself follow. Ready?"

"I'm ready."

He turns away from her and, spreading his arms wide, allows himself to dive away from her. Cutting through the air. She watches him descend for a moment, and then exercises that same willpower as before. Never taking her eyes off him, never allowing herself to question, she follows him down. Now he levels out and turning left, begins a wide, sweeping corkscrew gaining height once more. Jeannie does the same, allowing herself to follow his path exactly. After circling a few times, climbing higher with each one, he stops for a moment. Hanging there. Then, he simply surges upwards, rising continuously for a few seconds. Reaching his destination, he is still again. She trails behind all the way, meeting him at the summit.

Now she allows herself to drift closer towards him. Effortlessly, as if she were a feather carried upon the cool breeze. His open arms await her, close around her. They are together again. Tasting each other. Lost within each other. Hands no longer needed for support, for security, are free to travel. Free to explore. She feels his touch through the coarse fabric of her coat, moving slowly down along her back, until the sensation changes. Now she feels his hands sliding smooth against her, warm through the satin of her dress. Her tongue probes deeper, her arms hold him tighter, as those hands continue downwards until, stopping, they find the hem of her dress. Moving once more, upwards this time. Black satin follows them. Jeannie feels the chill air against her newly exposed skin as the dress is pulled up to her waist. She spreads herself, wrapping her legs around him. Now, painted silver by the stars, they are one.

Jeannie closes her eyes, and imagines he is taking her out there. Out among those stars that shine like diamonds, so close it seems she can almost reach out and touch them. Almost. Out where they could float like this forever. Where they would never have to come back down. Faster. Shooting through the blackness. Faster. Seeing what only dreaming eyes have seen. Faster still they travel, until they can take it no longer. Until they are about to explode together. Opening her eyes, the first thing she sees is a blue streak. A falling star tracing a line across the sky. Now it is gone. Now the feeling washes over her. Consumes her, spreading from her very core.

Taking a breath of fresh, clean air, she throws back her head and shouts, loud as she can. There are no words. Only sounds. The sound of exhilaration. Of happiness. But most of all, like the eagle, the sound of something that knows what it is to be free.

But nothing lasts forever. Finally, it is time to return. Slowly, the earth they left behind rises to meet them. Beneath their feet it lies now, cold and hard as before.

"I should take you home." He says, leading her back to the road and waiting car. Again he opens the door for her. The drive back to the apartment is short, but in the silence it seems much longer. There is so much Jeannie wants to say, feels she needs to say, but the words elude her. As the building comes into sight once more, she knows it is too late. They stop now, and this time she opens the door herself.

"Don't forget this."

She leans across to take the bag he holds out to her, and gives him one more soft, brief kiss. "Goodbye."

"I'll see you again next month. Call me." He looks back to the road now as she closes the door, and is on his way. Standing here, she watches the car as it moves off, until it is swallowed by the shadows. Only now does she go inside.

This time, the dream is different. Jeannie is floating, in a place she has never seen before. In the back of her mind, she has always known this place exists. Always known that, just beneath the surface, hidden from the lucky ones by the shining facade which is all they see, this is what truly surrounds them. A darkness. A vacuum. There is no place to stand here. Nothing to guide her. Nothing to reach for. This is the world she has lived in for so long. It was all a lie. Everything she told herself before, about there being some reason, some point to all this. Something that could make it right. How can she ignore the truth? How can she close her eyes to this emptiness around her? This is the first time she has really seen. That voice she tried so hard to ignore, was right all along. There is no comfort in this thought. No comfort in the blackness that surrounds her, that will be all she finds no matter how far she searches. Here she stays, lost and alone.

Then she sees it. A light. It seems as much a stranger in this place as she is. Another. And another. Everywhere Jeannie looks, there is another light, brighter than the one before it. More than she can count. More than she can imagine. Lights, going on forever and ever. And she's not alone anymore, not afraid. Because she knows she belongs here. Because she has finally found her way home.

This time, the dream will stay a dream. But there is one light, one happiness she knows now. One source of the freedom she craves. The world is hers. Because of the dust, for the first time in her life she feels like she's in control. Now, looking down even the tallest skyscrapers fit in the palm of her hand. The only things that can touch her are the sun and the wind. Nothing else can reach her. For a time. But she must always return sooner or later. Come back down to face it all again.

This is when, exhausted, all she can do is look up at the stars, and know how a bird must feel when it sees the sky through the bars of a cage. Slowly the days pass. Slowly she learns her new boundaries. She has so much, but wants more. She wants to leave this world behind. To be out there, among those countless scattered points of light. This can't be. But she knows how it would feel. He has shared that feeling with her.

Her thoughts are turning towards him now. Towards their next meeting. The weeks have seemed to blur past her, but with the memories of his touch, of that first time together, high above it all, so strong within her now, the remaining seven days seem too long. The waiting will be bearable though. The bag has gone down surprisingly slowly, and there will be enough to last until she is with him again.

With every day, Jeannie's desire grows. From her place in the sky, the people and their individual struggle to keep whatever embers of hope they still have burning in this indifferent city, simply fall away from view. It is easy to see the beauty in the world now. But this vision, this freedom she has, aren't enough to blind her to the fact that she is still alone. She wishes he was here to share these sights, this experience with, but that cannot be. Soon, but not yet.

Finally that day comes. She wears the same black dress again, the feeling as the satin slides over her skin better than before. Anticipation flows through her now. She can't wait any longer. She dials the number again.

"I'll meet you in an hour, at your place." He says, and then with a click the line is empty. She looks at the telephone a moment longer. Was it just a bad connection making his voice so quiet, so distant? Now she turns away, dismissing the thought.

Always expecting something to happen when it seems things are going right for her. Always expecting some complication, some failure to take everything away. Never letting herself hope, believe in anything, because that will just make it harder to let go when the reality can't be denied any longer. This is how she's learnt to live. Not anymore. He won't fail her. She can trust him, and this feeling she has. This time it's real. A trick of the wires won't be enough to make Jeannie question.

This last hour will be the hardest. She finds herself following the second hand of the clock again, moving with that same predictable, mechanical precision. It must only circle sixty times more. Then he will be here. Fifty nine. Fifty eight.

No. There must be something better to do than sit here, watching the minutes drag by. She turns on the tv again. The world is the same as it has always been. Everything is the same as it has always been. All the problems. The lies. The broken dreams. Everything. Only for her have things been different. Only she has been given a way to leave all that behind. It seems that every face she sees, on every channel, is crying out for some of the freedom Jeannie has. But she would never give it away. There is a moment of guilt, but she pushes it from her mind. She needs it. More than anyone.

Distracted, the minutes flow past her almost unnoticed. A knock on the door is the first thing to raise her from the couch. Getting up, she walks across and checks the corridor through the fisheye lens mounted in the wood. It's him. She can barely contain her excitement now as she unlocks and opens the door.

Something is wrong. From the moment she is face to face with him, she can see something is wrong. The smile that usually lights his face is gone, but it's worse than that. His eyes. Their sparkle is gone, leaving them flat, empty like twin pools of shadow. He comes inside, and without saying anything, moves to the couch. Just sits there, looking out at the balcony, and the city beyond.

"What's wrong?" She says, beside him. He says nothing. His gaze doesn't move from the city. "Tell me."

He reaches into his pocket now, still looking out there. Taking out his closed hand, fingers facing upwards, he turns towards her now, and spreads them. There is something lying across his palm, stretching from the base of his little finger to that of his thumb. So small. So delicate, like a finely crafted doll, made from the finest porcelain. Its whiteness, the coldness of its skin lends to this illusion. It is beautiful. Even in death, it is beautiful. It seems to have simply laid down in his hand for a long, restful, dream-filled sleep. She keeps expecting it to move, to breathe, to at least do something as its faceted wings flutter on some gentle current and split the light like jewels, but it remains still. There is a golden chain around one of its ankles, coiled loosely in his hand. Jeannie's necklace. And what else does she see? Flecks of gold glittering on the skin around where it lies. Like dust.

"She wanted to fly." He says at last. "All she wanted was to be free. She promised she would come back, promised it wouldn't be forever. But I was too afraid to lose her. I needed her, what she could give me. I tried to please her. I let her out of the cage. Instead, I kept her chained in front of the window, where she could feel the wind on her wings. Where she could see the world outside. I thought that would be enough. But now..."

"It's over?" He doesn't need to answer. Jeannie can see the answer in his eyes. There is nothing more to say. Nothing more, as the door opens and he leaves her again. Forever this time.

In his wake, reality comes rushing in. She feels it, pressing in on her like all the oceans. Jeannie tries to fight against it. Tries to struggle towards that light of her dreams, but they only seem to be rising beyond her reach as she sinks further day by day. She is drowning. The nights are worse.

The stars still call her. Even though reality holds her like a fist, they call. Every night, they are more beautiful. Every night, the torture is crueller. There is so much now that she can never have, never feel again. Not even sleep is an escape. Dreaming, she is among those same stars. Floating far away from the responsibilities that only wait to flood into her waking world. But there is one way out. One way to break this cycle.

Standing on the balcony, she sees the black shapes of birds flying into the sunset. Watches them until they disappear, heading towards the horizon. Wiping a tear from her eye, Jeannie remembers what she is here to do. Slowly, using one of the corner poles for support, she climbs onto the railing framing the balcony. She stands, balanced so high above it all. Stays there, arms spread, until the red disc of sun is no more. The evening breeze caresses her, as she has felt it so many times before. Now, she closes her eyes, and lets go.

She is free. This time there is nothing to stop her.