Passageway

Passageway

By Stephen Godwin


There was something odd about the narrow passageway the two of them were crawling through but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Maybe it was the ambient lighting that came from nowhere, but was a warm glow that allowed for everything you were looking at to be seen.  Perhaps it was that,  while the low ceiling necessitated them crawling on hands and knees while dragging their gear behind, it was fully wide enough for them to be side by side.
Maybe it was that, even thought there was an intermittent spray of something water-ish coming from pipe fittings not quite sealed, there was no filth or mold or vermin to be seen.

Or maybe, just possibly, it was because he and she were completely comfortable with the fact that they were as naked as the day they were born.

As they made headway down the path, he thought a bit of conversation only natural, so he asked about the weather.
"You know, that's a very silly question," she said. "Not only are we not outside but no one really likes to talk about weather."

He looked at her stupidly. She continued crawling. He followed. They both knew why they were going, and why they were bringing 40 pounds of camera gear in tow.

To her, it was just another day as inescapable an aspect of daily life as breathing. One's body can, after all, be a tool just as a carpenter uses a hammer or a bird uses its wings.

"What are you doing here?, " he asked.
"Going to shoot the scene so I can be done with it," she replied.
"In general, though....what brought you here?"
"I don't know." She looked away, then down where her hands were and added, "one minute I wasn't. The next I was."

She looked saddened by her own statement, and in that moment he caught a glimpse of someone else in her eyes. Resigned to her fate, but with a glimpse of regret, too.
Acting on this newly gleaned information, he posed the question no one had asked in a very long time.

"Well, if you're not happy now, what would you rather be doing? What do you want to be?