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* * *
After cleaning up, we are cuddling in each other’s arms, blissed out and exhausted.
“Taking a moment to figure things out on our own didn’t go as planned,” he says with a laugh.
“Pshaw. Introspection is overrated. I didn’t have the fortitude to think about my future that hard.”
“Says the most stubborn woman I’ve known.” He pinches my ass. “You don’t give up that easily.”
I smack his hand away. “I’d like to think of myself as headstrong, but bossy also works.” I smile defiantly.
“But…” Dante says in his serious voice.
It’s obvious what he’s getting at. “I know we need to sort ourselves out for the sake of our souls.” I sigh.
“Yeah. Nothing big.” He waves it off.
“I feel the need to throw another pshaw at you.” I smirk.
“Granted.”
“Pshaw.” After our chuckles, I ask, “Doesn’t it feel like everything is out of our control?”
“It does, but if that were true, would Karma need to manipulate anything? She’s not all powerful. Maybe none of these gods are.”
“You have a point. Although, Death seems to be a hard hitter.” I maneuver to look up into his stunning blue eyes. They are clearer, almost like arctic blue ice, but there’s nothing cold about them as he looks at me. “Could I contemplate with you next to me?”
“We could have break times from our introspection and…talk.”
“Communication of all variations,” I add with a wicked grin. “Bodies can talk.”
“I’d love to talk to your body some more.” Dante runs his hand leisurely down my side. “But first, we nap.”
“Granted.” I curl into him and tuck myself under his arm.
I allow my mind to wander and drift to sleep.
* * *
I’m more relaxed when I wake with Dante shifting to his side. I don’t mind that I’m the big spoon again.
We can risk a snuggle or two without the world falling apart. With a yummy smelling sexy teddy bear, it seems kind of like a crime not to tempt myself just a bit, but I also want to be more prepared for Karma’s visit.
I sneak out of bed for a second to retrieve Carmen’s death book, and as I crawl back next to Dante, I wonder what kind of supernatural being Carmen is. What was her angle in befriending me as a teen and showing up again now?
Is she an ally? Or is she pretending to be my friend for her own gain?
I center myself, drawing upon my psychic reader training, and ask again. My instincts tell me Carmen isn’ttryingto harm me.
I flip through the book. I have a habit of doing this with nonfiction, especially with metaphysical books. I just stop flippingrandomly,and there’s almost always an answer I need on that supposedly random page. Synchronicity is often at work when we pay attention.
I stop on a page about Karma, but this isn’t the Instant Karma that I know and barely tolerate. It’s aboutOriginalKarma.
I ease back to read, lazily stroking my fingers through Dante’s thick, dark hair while he sleeps. He croons with the contact, and my heart swells with joy. Simple things…
Turning back to my book, I read.
Karma has not one, but many definitions and different meanings. There is an ongoing debate whether karma is a theory, a paradigm, a model, a metaphor, or a metaphysical construct.
