She kneels beneath him, naked enough to appear powerless, raising a heart. Not a promise of one. Not its shape drawn in red. Something living, heavy, dripping, still warm in her hand. She holds it close. Not close enough.

The beast understands distance better than anyone. He lowers himself toward her, violence folding inward, hunger pulled tight beneath the skin, longing drenched in saliva. He could leap onto her. He never would if it meant scaring her away.

She has nothing to fear from him. That is where the balance changes. She can bare her throat, open her body to the dark, kneel within reach of something enormous - and still be safe.

He can only wait. For the hand to lower. For the distance to close. For what is offered to become present.

Perhaps that heart is real. Perhaps love not present does not stop being love. A pulse does not become false because you cannot put your hand against it. But how long can something be offered without ever being given? How long can a heart remain within sight before hope itself becomes the leash?

Is that leverage? Not because the heart is false. Not because the love must be a lie. But because one holds what the other cannot take, and distance begins to carry power. One year? Two years? Forever?

Long enough for absence to acquire a body. Long enough to live on words, on signs, on a door opening enough to see through, never enough to walk through. Long enough to wonder whether being remembered is the same as being wanted home.

She lifts the heart again. See? It is here. It beats. It has always beaten.

Maybe she aches too. Maybe the distance wounds the hand that keeps it. Maybe this is simply as close as she knows how to come.

If there were no love, he could turn away. If the heart were empty, he could stop listening for every pump and beat. But there it is - bright against the black, near enough to keep him facing her, far enough that he still cannot touch it.

So what is he waiting for? Her courage? Her return? Or has the waiting itself become what keeps him hers?

She offers. He believes her. She does not come closer.

And he can do nothing but wait, longing, hungry for her love.