Memories

There was a hardness to his voice that was unfamiliar to her. The cold indifference in his glazed eyes that struck her, forcing her to take in the firm jaw, the erect neck, the tense shoulders, slightly turned away from her own unfocused gaze.

She watched the bird flutter up high on the ledge. It twittered. As it flew, she recalled part of a song they used to sing. Fragments of a lost past that she held on to; remnants of the broken fabric of what they had. Threads.

Why do birds suddenly appear

Everytime you are near?

Just like me, they want to be

Close to you.

She wanted to be close to him. She reached out, every day, every night. She wanted to recognise him again, re-member him piece by piece, like a shattered image once treasured.

His cheerful humming broke through the memories, bringing her back to his reality. He still looked away, tapping a new rhythm, forming a new beautiful piece of composition. For their lost future together. She tried to reach him.

~

He was hospitalised. The thing was here, unannounced. Her heart broke. She tried not to cry.

"Have you been crying again?"

Accusation. False. She said no. He didn't believe her, but he didn't ask more. His voice, soft now. Tentative. He reaches out. She trembles, lets the thread fall. He was never holding it.

Why did you let go? How could you?

~

She seemed different. Could she finally be...? Yet, that was too much to hope for. She pushed the thought aside. Stop reaching out. Stop following me around, like a...

Her phone sings out to her. Her heart leaps. It's him. The alive him. She sings, joyous, aware that her prayers had him captured. She sings, free, composing her Self to him.

She whispers good night, tender. Rolls over to rest, to be herself once more. He remembers her. She hesitates, wary.

She picks up her phone. Listens to his voice on his voice-mail, once so familiar, so completely hers. She responds, distant. She says goodbye, pleased that she did her duty for the night. She relents, lets go. She drifts into slumber, dreaming of new memories, a new hope.

She retreats. Their bed. Hers, now. She sinks into the soft caress of linen, her mind silent. Her heart bleeds, hardening. She fingers the phone, wishing him to feel the thread.

Cold

Steady ready raindrops fall.