Fight or Flight, Pt. 1

by twofiftyorless

He has a mysterious and troubled history that he will never be able to share with me. Even if he could, I am not certain that he would; I the fear memories might be too painful.

In the presence of both exciting and frightening circumstances, his posture changes immediately and it is held in purposeful pose for as long as he deems necessary. I never know how long this will last: sometimes only a few brief seconds, sometimes minutes.

Each pose is a the flip side of the the same coin. When happy and confident with excitement, he looks almost regal while leaning forward, weight on this toes, head held high, and his shoulders pinned back. But when he is scared and frightened, the inverse is true as he leans back on his heels and his head falls forward collapsing under his slouching spine and falling shoulders. Amazingly, he is a shape-shifter; postured one moment as mightily venerable, but as a meager vassal the next .

In each instance, the tension in his nervous system is palpable as all of his senses become hyper-vigilant, increasingly sensitive to what he sees, hears and smells.

With the senses flooded, he begins to drown in intense focus, constriction and tautness; he shuts me out and there is no way to reach him…except through touch.

 

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