Counterweight

I'm caught, looking in the mirror and They’re behind me. I can see Them both, though I don't think that They can see me. They're watching each other, studiously, silently, absolutely still. It seems that the whole world has announced its cessation of movement, and the result is something like a stagnant dream.

I watch Them, feeling like an outsider. We are in the plainest of rooms; there are white walls and dark green, nubbly carpet. Our surroundings are neither clean nor dirty, neither cheap nor expensive. Welcome to the room of mediums; there are no extremes here.

Maybe it is better to say that there were no extremes. Now, with the addition of Them, They form extremes that are glaringly present. One is bright, like a newborn angel, shimmering with purity and light. The other is a shadow, a black hole personified. Together, there is no medium that could draw a gaze away from Them. I say nothing and I watch.

Eyes bore into each other, never breaking contact. I get the feeling that this will end in a fight; the tension in the air is every bit as thick and tangible as the words that aren't being spoken. I also feel like I should not be here. I don't want to watch this.

Then one moves. Reaching out a hand, the shadow destroys the only direct contact They had as black eyes look away. Surprisingly, the shadow is the one who first tries to forge a new, stronger bond. The light watches, almost afraid, eyes riveted on the outstretched hand. There is a long, terrifying pause, and it feels like the whole world is holding its breath, ready to tip and spill whatever secrets these moments may hold.

At long last, the light reaches out and grasps the hand of the shadow. I expect fireworks, explosives, maybe iridescent beams to flash. I flinch, tense, waiting for the anticipated boom or high-pitched whistle of whatever this connection may bring.

But nothing happens.

They stay in perfect balance, perfect equilibrium, and Their eyes meet once more. Two bonds, two forces.

Still the tension remains.

As I watch them behind me in the mirror, I notice my balance is waning. It takes another minute, as my attention is still affixed on Them, to realize that the room has started to rock back and forth.

The two opposing forces don't seem to notice what is going on; They are too focused on each other. They do not see the consequences, may they be positive or negative, that Their physical connection must be bringing. And I know that what is happening now is because They have met and touched, I know it without a doubt.

And then the light begins to sing. It is no human voice, rather, it is a clinking, like that of glass and stones falling together for a long time. It is a pretty sound, and I am fascinated by it. The light’s voice is a completely natural sound that puts me to rest and dissolves the tension that has been present for so long.

I am aware that the shadow wants to sing as well, but is unable to; the shadow has no voice. The light knows this as well, and I see a bright hand touch a black throat. There is a melodic blast, and then the shadow is somehow singing as well.

This forbidden junction opens a rift in what is real and defined; now all boundaries have been broken. Their voices rise in unison, in an opulent crescendo, and the room starts to spin.

At the peak of their song, a silver liquid begins to pour from the holes in the walls. It is not clear, it is not grey, it is silver, unarguably silver, glittering and shining like a living thing. It pools on the floor and starts to fill the room.

They finally move, together and as one, once the water gathers to touch Their feet; a pair of white and a pair of black eyes settle on me. All at once, the song is abruptly cut off.

I cannot help but tremble; I never should have been here.

Their mouths open, as if They are about to speak, and then I am rushed and turned inside-out. There is a sound like a fast wind blowing through trees; my vision has dissipated and I scream out when my feet touch what is unmistakably pavement.

A hand to my chest and gasping, I look around me. I am in the park, exactly where I had been before the world stopped turning. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a homeless man, wrapped in dirty rags and resting against a tree. He holds an ordinary cardboard sign. The second I read his message, I understand what has just happened with astounding clarity.

And I continue on my way.