She was four, the first time she saw him. Her mother laughed when she asked who the strange man with the box on his back was, waiting at Mr Johnson’s gate. But her mother couldn’t see anyone, and you know what children are like with their imagination, the conversation with daddy had gone. There was no laughter though, the next day, as they stood and
Jo’s nervous declaration of love still echoed around the kitchen, keeping Steve rooted to the spot. He knew he needed to say something, the way she was peering at him, expectantly, then bashfully, the silence drawing out to the point of almost too long. Shit. This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t supposed to love him back. He was in love with her, he’d known it
{image source -used under Creative Commons licence} At first, she tried to keep it quiet. It sounded like it was something that she should be thrilled about, but she found she wasn’t. Didn’t everyone want to avoid getting older? To live longer? The Sunday night lament of needing more hours in the day lost its power with all of eternity stretching out before her,
{photo source} The sound of their yelling echoed through the now empty room, just like the door she’d slammed on the way out. After months of tense silences and pointless bickering, they’d finally found themselves together long enough to shout it out. As the car door slammed, her last words finally hit him. “It’s too late. It’s too hard. I’m done,” she’d told him, her
A small patch of turbulence sent a shudder through the plane. Not much – any passengers awake would have barely noticed it, but it was enough to startle the sleeping passenger in 22A awake. In the disorienting moments between waking and sleeping, the turbulence was enough of a justification for a growing sense of unease, but as the moments ticked by and consciousness replaced dreaming,
{image source} The darkness was like a cocoon surrounding her and the soft glow of the candle beside her. On the bed beside her, a book lay, open, but forgotten, as she stared up at the ceiling, feeling herself being dragged down by the spiral of words running circles through her mind. She blinked, slowly, and the tear that had been gathering in the
{image source} Outside the window, the day was barely starting. A few weak rays of sunshine slowly warming the sky & hinting at the day ahead. The first tinkling bars of the birds song gently breaking the silence of the night. Inside, he had been laying awake for what felt like hours. His mind whirling, back and forth, trying to decide the best way
{photo source} The photo on the wall was almost taunting in it’s smug happiness. The picture perfect couple. The adorable new baby the perfect blend of both perfectly polished parents. The roundness of her face reflecting her perfect contentedness. His perfectly spiky hair as provoking as his perfect pride. Baby’s perfect round face and perfect little fuzz on top. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. The word resonated
It was still dark when he woke the first time, even though he felt he’d been asleep for hours, a slice of moonlight & the glow of the street lights below luminous through a gap in the curtains. The room was unfamiliar, and it took him a moment to work out where he was. It took a moment more to realise he wasn’t alone. Familiar
She sits in the corner booth, watching her friends on the dance floor, but all she can think of is the past. Sipping her drink, visions of the times they’d dance together haunt her, and the loneliness almost brings her to tears. {photo source – image used under creative commons licence}
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