I cannot, upon my word, bring to mind how or when I first laid my eyes on Marcus. It has been a long time since, and my memory is not what it used to be. Perhaps, the fact is that the singular cast of Marcus’ beauty had crept upon me slowly, degree by pleasant degree and he had filled my heart without my realizing it. My recollections are not entirely accurate, but I suspect I met Marcus in a rather curious way. It was in the town centre, where I had gone to buy red bangles and bright yellow marigolds. Marcus was also there, I cannot bring to mind the exact details of our first encounter, but he quite definitely did not blend into the background. In fact I suspect he stuck out in a rather prominent fashion or else I would not have noticed him. Of his lineage, I had surmised before he told me; and that was one reason that even while Marcus consumed my thoughts with the intense heat of an inferno, I had kept a respectable distance from him, for as long as I could. Marcus! Marcus! The very appellation is indicative of all the majesty of his persona. He was an emperor. His pale skin was a fabric knitted of the sun’s rays and it set a definite contrast against my own swarthy one. By the whisper of his name alone I bring to my grey life a starburst of colour. The sibilance lives on my tongue long after the name is uttered, a whisper that lives for him who is no more, him who lay sleeping in the black coffin a few days ago, or was it months or years?
Sorry EAP. The title says it all.
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