The Trifecta

A sphere. A circle. A flame. A sphere. A Circle. A flame. 'A sphere. A circle. A flame.' The thought came rhythmically. Never changing and always in sets of three: A sphere. A circle. A flame.

He became aware of the sulking heat pressed against his body first. It was pale, without the slightest blemish. Beautiful, as if the gods had sculpted it from the clouds. Silvery gold hair cascaded from down her shoulders like fine silk. He blinked. Only then did he notice the golden light peeking through those slender strands as if to anoint her. 

Pretty, the thought felt odd but right. 'Alive.'

He blinked, and she seemed to stir. New thoughts filled his head. Words he knew. Patterns he recognized. He did not recognize this person, but he knew her. He thought he did. 

The skies were bright and blue. And the sun was moving across cloudless skies.

Blink.