Beneath the mighty stone and steel span of the megalithic overpass, the sun had little authority. Even in the highest of summers or the most gentle of spring-time evenings, its colossal presence obscured all possible rays of daylight beneath its selfish shield of concrete. Below it was a forgotten ecosystem, known by little and visited by few. It loomed ominously over a murky pool of stagnant water, fed by a poisoned outlet that trickled a shallow flow of oily water down an ancient concrete weir. A forgotten rusting skip, shopping trolleys and a cluster of mopeds dotted its earthy dead banks; a reminder both of man’s doomed present and an omen of his most certain doomed future. The limbs of the overpass, sank deep within the earth, like discoloured giant’s teeth, are covered in fluorescent scribbles and murals by aerosols that now lay discarded and rusted. Lanky, wilting weeds sprouted irreverently, many limp and crusting like dead wheat upon a top layer of grey gravel. They had found this place by complete chance one summer afternoon, when the days were still long, and her husband was still none the wiser. This lifeless, vast stretch of land was nobody’s to own; no travellers parked their caravans there, claiming a new territory. Nor did even the most desperate or nomadic homeless men or women with their tents and trollies, create a temporary commune there. Yet, despite its epic and grotesque frame, the overpass protected all that visited it. It told no secrets; it asked for no wager and as the cars in their hundreds zoomed on up and down the M25, the two beneath it felt strangely protected. A rat, flopped into the pool silently, manoeuvring its podgy body through the waters in a panicked haste in a hope to not attract any water based predators, as the visitor’s car engine clicked into an abrupt silence. A CCTV camera, high above them, sits perched on the underside of the concrete road like a parasite clinging to a beast.
The two sat in sheer silence, the car’s open door filling the exposed climate of the car with the rushing of vehicles above, coming to and from the city’s distant centre. The silence had become an intrinsic ritual within their meet, and for the first time since their last visit here, they can take in all of the intricacies and sensory wonders that existence has to offer. He sails his hand through the air over to her, stroking the fine hairs of her arm, working his way down to her palm, where the two foreign hands embrace. Without warning, she whimpered aloud, which grew slowly into a muffled wail, batting off falling tears. He kissed her hand, avoiding the diamond ring deliberately; slowly and tenderly placing lip upon skin. Then her neck, ear lobe and the round of her shoulder, laying each kiss intently like a farmer sowing new seeds. Her crying subsided, slowing to a halt, as she turned and smiled through her puffy eyes, only to close them and gasp and moan and exhale all within a combined flurry of reactions to her arousal as his hand snakes south. A fox, juvenile and curious scurried past them both, descending onwards to its riverside den, but is seen by neither, as she disposed of her wedged sandals, kicking one to the car floor and the other to the dusty earth outside. They gazed at each other; it was a primal gaze of predator, prey and the very same in reverse, as she locked her legs, peeling away a pair of knickers, that he held to his face and pocketed. His car seat was lowered to a horizontal state, by way of a click and raise of a lever. She climbed over to occupy it, lifted the hem of dress to accomodate him and waited, now wet with tension, anticipation and something else innefable. High above at the height of the overpass, a crowd of seagulls harped and screeched; a train’s horn echoed a mechanical sing-song within an unspecified radius. One of their phones buzzed with the indication of an incoming call, but rang out, long after he had entered her.