„Hello,“ said someone behind him, and he nearly slipped off the seat of the worn, spinning chair – his faithful comrade in the endless battle with words.

He turned slowly, cursing the pain in his neck that no longer allowed faster movements. The blurred figure across from him reminded him that he’d left his glasses somewhere on the desk. Still paralysed with fear, he groped behind him, found them, slid them onto his nose…

And froze.

Opposite him was the most angelic, most beautiful face anyone could imagine after Raphael – insanely, indescribably harmonious, sculpted with that natural boldness no human hand could ever reproduce. High cheekbones, enormous, bottomless-blue eyes, a touch naive like a child’s, a narrow little nose and lips filled with feeling, but not sensuality – all of it framed by a delicately wavy chestnut mane, the most perfect frame for the most perfect painting. Even the light fell on her features in a pastel-soft way, painfully familiar from professionally filtered Hollywood films, but otherwise non-existent in nature. The sight was so stunning that his heart began to pound and ache – genuinely, not as a metaphor.

He swallowed convulsively and asked, more than foolishly:

„Who are you?“

„Serafima.“

„What’s that – some kind of angel?“

„A she-angel,“ she confirmed. „Same as an angel, just a little different.“

She had a slight speech defect, just like him, with a darkening of the „ch“ and „sht“ sounds – something which, as is well known, comes from a certain underdevelopment of the lower jaw. He registered it and stored it somewhere in the autistic computer of his consciousness. It made her even more exquisite and charming, of course.

„What, you don’t believe me?“ she laughed, and gentle, long-forgotten bells rang out in his soul.

„Show me… your wings,“ he murmured faintly, before he could be ashamed. „Otherwise I don’t believe.“

She looked critically around the little room.

„It’s a bit tight in here, no space. But if you want, you can touch.“

„Touch where?“

His throat went dry. Tiny whirlwinds of light spun before his eyes, then everything snapped back into place.

„Here.“ She pointed to her shoulder blades. „Don’t be afraid, nothing will happen. They’re like cat claws – come out only when I want them to.“

He reached out and touched her hesitantly. The fabric of her clothing was airy and soft, very slippery. His hand was shaking badly, despite all his effort.

„No, not there,“ she corrected. „Higher, much higher. There – can you feel it now?“

She lifted her shoulders, and her shoulder blades suddenly rose beneath the skin like hidden levers of a powerful, thin-skinned machine.

He recoiled, startled.

„Alright, alright, I believe you. I believe everything, okay. No… no need for more.“

She looked at him understandingly, nudged him back toward the chair.

„Then we can start the work. If you want, of course.“

He threw her a desperate look. The warmth of her skin was still spread across his fingers, like the memory of a beautiful, already forgotten dream.

„Work?“

„Well then, call it what you like. For me, it’s work. They sent me to heal you a little, to help. The ones up there decided you’ve had enough.“

„Uh-huh. And how exactly does the healing work?“

„It’s not complicated – quite the opposite. We’ll contemplate each other and mutually calm down. I’ll be your corrective. When you start to form a thought, reaction, or action, pass it through the idea of intoxication, slowness, acceptance, harmony, calm. Let tendrils of acceptance grow, and shape the situation in your mind as an idol-like, sunny one. Be a friend to yourself, to your own comfort – not an enemy. Pride leads you to the ultimate altars of your own insufficiency… There’s no point in that, it’s too limiting.“

„Did you understand me?“ she asked, a bit uncertain, after he showed no visible reaction for several minutes. „Or should I say it again?“

„Can I… touch… once more?“ he asked, staring at the floor. „Just a little bit, I promise.“

She eyed him suspiciously.

„Alright, but don’t tickle me. Last time it tickled so much I could hardly keep it together. Just slowly, with your whole palm – not fingers.“

„Th–thank you,“ he whispered, reaching out with closed eyes.

His body filled with a gentle, singing bliss.

His feet left the ground, he drifted somewhere – light as a feather, like a fluff on a breeze.

Gentle music, or maybe murmuring, filled him from head to toe.

He wished to die, right there, in that moment.

But the awareness caught up with him instantly, made him open his eyes and break the spell, against his own will. He felt such loss that he nearly cried.

„Wait, wait,“ her voice came from afar, terribly far.

„What is it?“

„That thing on your right hand. Why doesn’t that finger move?“

„Oh, that? It’s nothing serious, tendon inflammation. Comes from the gall bladder, strange as it sounds. But it doesn’t bother me at all – I tap the keys like a grandmaster. One day that finger will stop moving entirely, but until then…“

„Alright, alright. Give it here – I’ll fix it right now.“

She gently pulled him closer, took his hand, and placed it under her left breast – right over her heart.

The sensation was like an electric shock – but sweet, murderously sweet, straight to the brain, straight to the centre of everything that makes one a slave to sensation, a slave to the body.

He was so ashamed of his obvious erection that he started pulling away and nearly ruined everything.

„Will you calm down already or shall I abandon you to your fate? Stop fluttering like a chicken, I can’t concentrate like this! Ah, now that’s better.“

He puffed like the proverbial locomotive but forced himself to stay still – though he felt like she was slowly, unbearably slowly and sweetly peeling the skin from his body.

He began to tremble uncontrollably, his teeth chattered, a thin, drawn-out moan rose from his throat – very womanly, shameful and uncontrollable.

His mouth filled with saliva, his eyes blurred and stopped functioning.

He already imagined himself drooling, smearing himself with his own fluids, powerless to resist the pleasure, incapable of any conscious effort – filled only with unbearable, Thanatos-charged ecstasy, repeating a single word to unconsciousness: „More, more, more.“

His head detached from his shoulders, left him.

Then his limbs began to leave him one by one, then the innards, all balled up in something grotesque, almost obscene – then everything else, until only that remained, the one…

He pulsed together with her and forgot everything – truly everything, everything, everything.

* * *

When he came to, he found himself on the bed, covered with a light blanket, feeling strangely light, as if he’d lost ten kilos.

She was sitting in the dark, rustling the pages of a book.

„What are you doing?“ he asked cautiously.

„Oh, you’re finally awake? I thought you’d sleep until tomorrow. I found this comic book here – terribly entertaining. It was the only unfamiliar book in your library.“

„They… they’re my son’s,“ he blurted out quickly, then felt ashamed and added, „But I like them too. A lot.“

„How’s the hand?“

„Huh? Wait – I’d completely forgotten.“

He wiggled his fingers cautiously, then touched himself slowly to make sure it was indeed his right hand – suddenly fumbled for the lamp switch, turned it on, and stared in disbelief at the healthy, intact hand – just as he remembered it more than thirty years ago.

He looked wide-eyed at Serafima. She winked conspiratorially and buried herself again in her comic book.

„Hey, listen,“ he ventured shyly, trying to sound casual. „I’ve got some other impairments… in… slightly more… delicate areas.“

„I knew it,“ she muttered in disappointment, laying the book beside her. „I knew it wouldn’t be easy with you. They warned me up there – said you’re a master of delay. Alright then – go on, show me the other places.“

„Um… those will need more time,“ he croaked, blushing to his ears. „They’re… not so easy to heal.“

„No worries – I’ve got eternity,“ she replied cheerfully. „And besides – I enjoy healing you. It’s lovely. Like a swing.“

„Yes, yes – I want a swing too. Swing me, swing me… all the way to eternity.“

She smiled silently and began to unbutton his shirt.