I saw her face just for fraction of second. In any other situation, especially when I was narrowly escaped from an accident, I would have filled with ultimate rage and fear but the glimpse was mesmeric. Surprisingly she looked quite familiar to me; perhaps, because of her close resemblance to well crafted thousands year old sculpture of a Roman goddess that I saw last summer during my trip to Europe. It was difficult to control my desire to see her face again. Time stopped for me. I forgot that I was hurrying to reach guest house in Wellington town just minutes back and now, in midnight, standing in middle of dark and barren valley, trying hard to get another look of the bluish, wet cold face.
I started moving towards her. It was quite clear that I already forgot the accident. It was also not humanity or legitimate duty to check victim for any medical aid. I, thoughtlessly, was already trapped in sizzling desire. I reached much closer to her but still could not see her face. A toxic mixed fragrance of expensive wine and luxurious perfume guided me, though congested space between two cars. Now I was just few inch away from her face. Her driving door’s window was open. Slowly I found my hand touching her forehead — it was cold, dead cold. Suddenly my conscious returned; I realized the accident and possible consequences. I crept my finger towards her neck to check her nerve for any vital sign but could not control rubbing my palm with her skin as much as possible.
There was no pulsation. But what was happening with me? I was extremely confounded by my throbbing sensation — certainly it was not fear.
