She was there near the window. He could see her backwards, her spine, the vivid shape of a salamander. The first sun beams running on her body as waves in a coulourful sea. He had never known anyone like her.
He was there, his head on the pillow, the sheets still like lifeless leaves resting on an empty street. Emptiness. That´s what he felt when he closed his eyes and fully realized she was ready to leave him.
She was still backwards, he could see her face reflected in the window pane, he tried to draw her features on his mind and frame them there, craving for them to escape the hands of time.
But he couldn´t do it. He knew that not only her features but also her shape, voice, and all she represented to him would fade away, would be asphyxiated.
When she was finally gone, he looked at the room, empty of her feminine figure. There was a subtle happiness though. She had left a perfume in the air. He knew he would always have her scent and the sultry memories.
He didn´t want much more from life, afterall.