The Lover's Parable Through A Seven World Journey Read Online Free PDF

picture frame from off of the coffee table. “We were so in love, Helen and I.”
    He turned the picture toward Sofia.
    “This was Helen, my wife”, he said, gently handing the picture frame to her, as if it were a newborn child.
    It was not an unfamiliar face Sofia was looking at in the photograph. She remembered seeing Helen Sanders many times as they passed one another in the hallways and on the busy sidewalks, sometimes even riding up the elevator with her.
    She had been a secretary down the street before being taken. And although, in the past, she and Sofia had several close physical encounters, Sofia had never once spoken with the woman. With the exception of John, Sofia gave little mind to the other citizens of Labor. They just existed.
    Yet, something about the black-and-white image was quite odd to her. The picture was not exactly the same Helen she had the occasion of seeing. The photograph before her was different and more composed: it was the picture of a Helen that was young and lively. She generally looked the same, of course, except that the thin, gray hair that Sofia remembered her to be adorned with was flowing so vibrant and healthy, her skin was so smooth and her eyes so bright. This was a woman from a different era, a different time altogether. This was the woman that Mr. Sanders was in love with.
    From above his steam-coated lenses, Sofia could make out what appeared to be the formation of tears at the inner corners of Mr. Sanders’ eyes. A flushing sensation spread across her cheeks as she noticed that he was staring at her with a protective affection. As she handed Helen’s memorial back to him, Mr. Sanders received it with earnest, grasping her by the hand. Leaning forward, his voice was soft, almost private in tone.
    “We often spoke of running, too,” he said.
    Slipping her hand away from his, Sofia could feel that recently experienced, startling uneasiness beginning to fill up within her heart once again. Although it had been waning while staring into the comforting eyes of Helen that appeared to gaze back at her from the photograph, it was now a mixture of fear and curiosity, a dreadful denouement that was exposing to her that someone had somehow heard her speaking with John today on the rooftop. That had become one of their most intimate secrets, as equally secret as the Savior watching and wishing stars. And yet, this complete stranger had somehow become privy to their dreams.
    “What do you mean?” Sofia stuttered.
    Sinking back into the chair, accompanied by the creaking of its old wooden frame, Mr. Sanders smiled.
    “Oh, come now. I’ve seen you two up there,” he said, pointing to the ceiling. “You can see right over the Corral, can’t you? The hills are covered with trees. Trees are everywhere, as far as the eye can see.”
    With an accusing smirk on his face he leaned forward and said, “They’re quite inviting, too, aren’t they?”
    Sofia did not answer the question. Her nervously wandering eyes were speaking for her. Mr. Sanders reclined back once more and said, “Yes, indeed. I’ve been watching you two for quite some time: roof hopping, swinging around the cables, walking across those structural, connecting beams. The smiles on your faces and…”
    He hesitated and took another look at his Helen in the picture, “…and the way you two would hold hands.”
    He cast a glance to Sofia from above his spectacles and said, “I’ve been there, too.”
    Standing up, he took a deep breath before walking to another picture hanging within a rustic frame upon the opposing wall.
    “We were just too old and unfit to survive out there,” he said, turning around. “But, we did have a plan. We had everything planned.”
    He strolled over to an old wooden, roll-top desk. The tremble of his hands appeared to increase in intensity as he slid open a small, hidden drawer nestled within its side. Black as coal was the aged box that he exposed to Sofia’s eyes. With a queer