You don't know me. You don't know what I can do, and what I can't control.
You know me better than almost anyone, but that's only the outside. And I
know what you're thinking, “well, if I don't know you then let me.” But It
doesn't work like that. You can't know. It's against the law.
Believe me, I want to tell you. A few times, my mouth has almost betrayed
me, and blurted out the secret. But I have stopped myself. Every time.
Because if I don't, that means you will still be safe from my government, my
evil government.

My hand drops the black pen onto the table. My hand is shaking, I was lucky it didn't show in my handwriting. Or did it? I hope he doesn't notice.
Eying the goodbye note carefully, I convince myself to sign it.




L.o.V.E.
My name, Lorelei Optimus Vega Entity, spells out the word love, which is why I sign my initials. He'll know who it's from, he knows my full name. He knows everything about me. Everything that's human.
The door squeaks, the handle is turning. He can't know that I'm here. I must give the impression I left long ago.

Moving faster than sound, I organize our king bed. It's a hotel bed, in a hotel, but it's the most comfortable I've ever been in. I've only been in a few, though. My long, slender and tan fingers work furiously to create slight wrinkles in certain spots, make it look like I was lying there once. I imagine, if someone were to watch me, they would see a blur of light, random colors, such as light pink, orange, yellow, and red. Those are the colors of my sun dress that skims my thighs.

I turn off the lamp light, sitting in the room's corner, which makes no sense to me. It's usefulness is greatly decreased. All in the split second that the key in the doorknob clicks, I have organized the not-too-shabby room enough to give the impression of emptiness.

Standing next to my bags, completely packed, I even feel that someone who is supposed to be here, isn't. The doorknob turns three millimeters. It takes two split seconds.

I bend down and touch the handle of my two duffel bags. One is baby blue, dotted with shapes and forms of all variety. They are white. The other is dark green, the color of a forest at dusk. Woven into the material, are the outlines of trees, and somewhere [I can never remember where] there is a silhouette of an elk. They are both full to the brim, and they aren't bewitched. I pack light, for my kind.

I hear the doorknob click as it retracts completely out of the doorway. I must be going. He can't know I was here a fraction of a second before he got home. Concentrating on my heaven on earth, I make sure to grab hold tight of my duffel bags. I wouldn't want to lose them on the trip there.

In my mind, I see a green field, swaying in a breeze. Circling it is a dense forest, with sunlight rays peeking through the treetops and reaching out to the leaves, like arms reaching for a treat. I imagine that behind me is a cottage, but it's only called that because it's made of wood. Standing a grand three stories tall, my “cottage” is my heaven. I live alone but I never feel lonely, for I have what I love all around me, and that is enough.

The door opens half a millimeter. I am gone.