Under the flickering reflection of the street lamps outside, Inem’s body looked pale.
Pale like porcelain that had never seen sunlight.
Her skin was white and clean…too clean for a woman living under a toll bridge.
Inem closed her eyes.
Her hand moved, about to cover herself.
Anom caught her hand.
“Don’t.”
Inem opened her eyes.
Anom didn’t speak.
He just stared.
He just wanted to look.
Inem let herself be seen.
Anom’s rough fingers now touched Inem’s stomach.
Not too cold anymore.
Her skin was smooth.
Very smooth.
Anom had never felt skin like this.
His hands were rough, full of calluses, but when he touched Inem’s skin, he felt like he was touching something he had never owned.
“You’re beautiful,” Anom said.
His voice was hoarse.
Inem didn’t answer.
She just looked at Anom.
Her eyes looked wet.
Anom bent down a little more.
He kissed Inem’s white neck.
But when his lips touched there, he felt Inem’s pulse slowly change…like a small bird trying to escape its cage.
He kissed Inem’s prominent collarbone.
The woman moaned softly.
Her hands squeezed Anom’s shoulder.
Her nails dug into his skin.
“Inem…”
Anom kept kissing downward.
To Inem’s small, flat chest.
To her hollow stomach.
To her narrow hips.
Inem bit her lip.
“Enough.”
Anom looked up.
“Does it hurt?”
Inem shook her head.
“No.
I…
haven’t felt this in a long time.
I’m scared.”
Anom moved up again, looking into Inem’s eyes.
“Scared of what?”
“Scared that this isn’t real.”
Anom didn’t answer.
He suddenly placed his hand between Inem’s thighs.
There, in the most hidden place, he felt warmth.
After so long feeling only cold, that warmth felt like fire.
Wet.
Soft.
Inem moaned, closing her eyes.
“It’s real,” Anom whispered.
Inem opened her eyes.
Her eyes were glassy.
She didn’t speak.
She just pulled Anom closer.
Anom guided his body on top of Inem.
He didn’t know what he was doing.
He had never done this before.
His hands were shaking.
His chest was tight.
He tried to enter.
But he was wrong.
He started over again.
He pulled back, trying again.
Slower this time.
He felt the tip touch something wet and warm.
He pushed a little.
Inem gasped.
Her hands gripped Anom’s back.
“Does it hurt?”
Inem shook her head.
“No.
It’s just…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
Anom didn’t push.
He waited.
Inem sighed, then nodded slowly.
Anom pushed again.
Slowly.
He felt Inem’s body tense up.
He stopped.
Waiting.
Inem bit her lip, but didn’t tell him to stop.
After a moment, Inem’s body slowly softened.
Anom moved.
Slow.
In and out.
He didn’t know the right rhythm.
Sometimes too fast, then he slowed down.
Sometimes too deep, then he pulled back a little.
Inem let him learn.
Her hands squeezed Anom’s shoulder, then his back, then his hip…like she didn’t know where to hold.
Her breathing was short.
Her eyes were closed.
Anom moved deeper.
Inem moaned.
Her voice was held back, like she didn’t want to be too loud.
“Anom…
slow…
slo…
arrgh-aah”
Anom slowed down.
He learned from Inem’s voice.
From her breathing.
From the way Inem’s fingers pressed into his back.
Inem started moving with him.
Slow.
Not in sync.
Sometimes they both moved forward together, sometimes opposite.
Anom went the wrong direction a few times.
Inem laughed a little.
A strange laugh…a sound Anom had never heard before.
“What?” Anom whispered.
“Nothing.
It’s just…
you’re funny.”
Anom didn’t know how to feel.
But he didn’t stop.
He kept moving, learning from every mistake.
Inem reached something first.
Her body tensed.
Her hands gripped Anom’s back so hard that Anom felt her nails break his skin.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Anom felt something wet and warm squeeze him.
Like something pressing, hugging.
He stopped moving.
Waiting.
Inem opened her eyes.
Her eyes were hazy.
Her breathing was still fast.
“You haven’t?”
Anom shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Inem smiled weakly.
“You’re patient.”
Anom didn’t know if that was a compliment or not.
But he didn’t care.
He moved again.
Slow.
Inem let him.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing slowly steadying.
Anom felt something building in his stomach.
Something hot, pushing to get out.
He wanted to hold it, but couldn’t.
“Inem…”
“Don’t hold back.”
Anom hugged Inem.
His face pressed against Inem’s neck, which was now warm.
He let go of everything in one long breath.
They were quiet.
Anom didn’t move.
He was still on top of Inem, still inside Inem, not wanting to leave.
Inem didn’t push him away.
Her hand stroked Anom’s rough hair.
“Anom.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not cold anymore.”
Anom looked up at Inem.
Her eyes were still wet, but there was a small smile on her lips.
A smile he had never seen before.
Anom didn’t know what to say.
He just kissed Inem’s forehead.
Briefly.
Then he moved to the side, lying down next to Inem, not wanting to be far apart.
Inem moved, resting her head on Anom’s chest.
Her stiff hair tickled Anom’s chin, but he didn’t mind.
“You won’t tell anyone about this, will you?” Inem whispered.
Anom shook his head.
“Who would want to listen to someone like me?”
Inem didn’t answer.
She closed her eyes.
Her breathing slowly steadied.
Anom stared at the tarp ceiling.
Water dripped slowly onto an old can.
But now that sound didn’t bother him.
He didn’t know what had just happened.
He didn’t know if it was real.
He only knew that for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone.
He hugged Inem tighter.
The woman mumbled something in her sleep, pressing her body closer to Anom’s chest.
…
The noise from the market starting its activities woke Anom up.
The morning sunlight was brighter now, coming through the cracks in the shack.
Anom stood up, feeling his body much fresher than usual.
He remembered the wound on his hand from last night.
He carefully removed the plastic wrapping around his hand, ready to see the big scab that usually appeared after a deep cut.
But when the plastic came off, Anom froze.
His palm was clean.
No scab, no pus, no pain.
The gash that had looked wide open last night was now tightly closed.
All that remained was a faint thin pink line…like a wound that was a week old and in its final stage of healing.
The skin around it looked healthy and firm.
Anom pressed the scar with his right finger.
No pain at all.
He bent his palm back and forth several times.
The skin moved smoothly, as if a sharp knife blade had never cut it a few hours ago.
“This…
can’t be,” Anom whispered.
He immediately looked around his shack, searching for Inem.
But the spot where Inem had been last night was empty.
Inem was gone…probably back to the edge of the drainage channel or her other hiding place.
Anom walked out of the shack, looking at his hand under direct sunlight.
The faint pink line was still there, proof that what happened last night wasn’t just a hallucination.
He remembered Inem’s words from last night.
“It will dry on its own.”
Anom took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart, which was starting to beat fast.
He tried to find a logical explanation one more time.
Maybe his skin had a very fast regeneration ability because he was often injured.
Maybe the air under this toll bridge had something that sped up healing.
Or maybe the knife hadn’t actually cut as deep as he thought.
He piled up every kind of denial in his head.
As an anomaly, he knew that believing in miracles was the fastest way to lose your mind.
He didn’t want to go crazy.
He preferred to believe in coincidence rather than face the reality that he was dealing with something outside the laws of nature.
Anom took his bucket, ready to go find fish again.
He had to work.
His stomach wouldn’t get full just from thinking about the miracle of a closed wound.
He walked out of the shack area, past piles of trash and puddles of last night’s rain.
“That’s why you shouldn’t cut fish carelessly,” Anom mumbled to himself, hiding his hand in his pants pocket.
He chose to stay the usual Anom.
A scruffy man who had given up on life, who was honest because he had nothing left, and who now had one small secret wrapped tightly inside his now-clean palm.
He walked toward the drainage channel, not realizing that from behind a far concrete pillar, a pair of clear eyes kept watching his steps with a look full of hidden hope.