the father of excuses

(deɪ nuˈmɑ̃, noun) Deemed one of the most beautiful words in the English dictionary, denouement is defined as the final resolution of a mystery, occasionally in drama or novel’s intricate plot.

etymology:  French: literally, an untying, equivalent to dénouer to untie

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was calming. The tickling feeling of the waves lapping around her ankles was soothing. The briny scent filling her lungs was the most refreshing thing she had ever experienced since breathing for the first time. Hearing Epi’s words, she grinned and closed her eyes. Her arms slowly lifted from her sides, the sea breeze sending goosebumps up and down her arms.

“So this is being human…” Pandora said softly as her eyes fluttered open. It was such an indescribable feeling. This was what it meant to be free. To the woman of clay, it was beautiful.

A warm shiver ran through her as she felt his touch. She looked to him immediately, a warm smile playing on her lips. She couldn’t see but her cheeks began flushing slightly from his touch and from the excitement she was drawing from their surroundings. Pandora walked towards him slowly. Her heart raced slightly and her stomach fluttered as she drew closer. This was an even more peculiar feeling than the freedom she had experience awhile ago. Perhaps it was the same feeling altogether. It didn’t matter. She found herself with a newfound excitement and freedom and it was controlling her actions slowly but surely.

Pandora reached for his hands until her fingers had entwined with his -  in the spots where they always fit perfectly. She looked up at him and smiled warmly.

“Thank you for this. Thank you for showing me this… freedom. This feeling of being human.”

“You are welcome.” He stared down at their fingers, lips parted just so, finger tightened so that she might not slip from his hands. “I do not want you to feel as if I want you as anything else, Pandora.”

Pandora looked down at her feet as Epimetheus gingerly took one sandal from her feet then slowly bent down to help him with the other. She followed him tentatively into the water, feet almost touching the sparkling water. If Epimetheus wasn’t willingly guiding her into the water, she wouldn’t have stepped in. With its crisp, clean and cool appearance, the water looked too beautiful to be disturbed. But maybe the water wouldn’t mind, she thought.

Her toes had touched the surface first, the ticking sensation resonating through her legs and sending shivers down her spine. The corners of her lips involuntarily tugged upwards and she gripped onto Epimetheus’ hand for dear life. It wasn’t long until both her feet were submerged, the water reaching her ankles. The feeling that bubbled deep inside of her was strange but somewhat exhilarating. She almost felt like squealing and screaming. It was indescribable. “What is this…?” Pandora said almost breathlessly as she looked at him.

“It’s the ocean.” He slowly releases her hand, but stays enough so that she did not feel threatened by the open expanse of the sea. “Whatever you’re feeling, I just want you to embrace it.”

He knew just how it felt to see the world for the first time, seen the humans wander, explore. He, himself, would never feel it quite the same way, and perhaps that is why he envied them when he had nothing else to ponder. She, however, at this change he never had.

“Makes you feel human, doesn’t it?”

She couldn’t understand how or why she placed so much trust in Epimetheus. Perhaps it was because of his kindness or his willingness to help her - someone who was still too naive to understand this world. Perhaps she was relying simply on her intuition, even though it wasn’t developed enough to be considered so. Regardless, it just seemed right to trust her husband. He took care of her and vowed to do so for as long as they existed.

Her thumb brushed over a small area of his hand, right below the dip between his thumb and index finger. “I do not feel like a prisoner with you,” she replied as she looked at him. “But if you wish to show me more on how that really feels, then I would like to know. I wouldn’t be against it.”

Even the littlest touch of her hand warms his spine, and fills his lungs with hot air, so that he may float if he didn’t hold on tight enough. It may have been silly of him — reckless, even — to look at this woman made of clay and see a better home than the one he had now, but it wasn’t in his nature to think before he acted, but to measure his mistakes once they are through.

But how does one go about showing someone freedom, letting them taste it for the first time? And then he has a thought, steadily growing, until he is taking her hand and they are gone. The sea he takes her to is of the clearest blue, home to his uncle and aunt. If one looked closely, it was so clean one could count the seashells beneath the waves.

He had been bumped into so often on these streets, a mere nobody, that he almost didn’t realize she spoke or that her shoulder had struck his.