not space.

He consumes you in a way most don't understand. He's smooth in texture and consumes all void space around you.Your eyes have yet to consume him physically but your skin knows him well. Your eyes can only consume his action. You watch him bully a thin black plastic bag from a distance. He first lays flush against the bag then pushes the ground bellow it, lifting it high. He does this often with light objects.  He nips at you when he is cold and bitter and would prefer you out of his sight. He even then pushes you around. It doesn't bother you as much as it did when you were younger and lighter. His breath clutters your skin with heat when he craves a better view of your body. He provokes small beads of sweat to escape you. He can even be quite the minx in the way he tugs at your clothes. He jumps beneath your skirt pushing it up as he touches your legs in a cool caress. He slithers beneath your shirt showering your stomach with cold unforgiving kisses. Your ears have become accustomed to his soft whisper and his ferocious roar used to intimidate you. You love the way he'd caress your body and shelter you from the heat of the sun. You hate the way he'd assault your hair in the car on a day where he'd felt strong. Your body begs for his presence, without him life seems impossible. Your body rejects him like a toxic relationship but like an addict comes back for more constantly. You begin to think of all the things people call him, air, wind, and oxygen. Can the air that takes up space be a character in that place?