The whole length of him burned for her, ached to hold her. It was the middle of the night, as always, when the longing shook him. "Chandra," he sighed, half a prayer.

He'd first seen her from the market, a rooftop lady confined to a garden. Gilded bars are still bars. At first, the glimpse was nothing beyond ordinary. It was only later the burning took him, when he lay alone in the darkness. I see women all the time, he thought, disgusted with his infatuation. Women washing clothes, women buying jewels, women carrying babes— women, everywhere, all the time. Why should one woman– who I couldn't even see properly– twist my heart so?

But twist it she did, into little wrinkled knots, until he was certain, completely and totally, that he would do anything to have her.

Author's Note:

Quality decreases with quantity. Fifth prompt out of fifty, list made for me by TheMagicPocketTurtle. Go read her fifty-theme list.