Smog

It floats above us, clinging to the air - heavy and thick.

We move tentatively, unsure how to manoeuvre around what looms over us.

Eyes meet, transmitting silent signals, testing to see if we should continue the pretence of there being nothing wrong. Our bodies shift our weight as we squirm to find comfort where we sit together but there is none to be found.

We exchange words, uttered in the knowledge that they are loaded with meanings we dare not confront. We continue in this manner for some time, our eyes distracted by the moving images on the television screen whilst our minds take note of every movement, every potential thought of the other.

Above us the smog grows thicker, too dense to penetrate. To attempt to dispel it now seems impossible. Instead, we sit uneasy in the knowledge that - for the moment at least - it shall remain undisturbed, it will not be discussed. We allow it to fester until we are unable to move due to its presence.

Our bodies drift slowly towards one another. The distance we allowed to stay between us diminished as if we are trying to huddle together for protection against that which hovers above us. We can feel it close-in around about us, we are seeking shelter from each other.

Arms so close that the hairs protecting either skin intertwines with the others, they stand on end as if electricity has been passed through our bodies. Hearts racing, breathing becoming a little shallower, our eyes focus on the screen, attempting to propel ourselves away from this awkwardness.