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Untitled Affair Part 1

Silence. No different from the morning before. The predictable comfort. He lays alone knowing what should come next. A small glimmer of hope for change yet breaking his soul into pieces at the idea of something so horrible. He hears her. His heart calms. She is moving across the hall just as she always has. Whispering. As though she is not really there. Just a noise. He knows better.




Sunlight. Gashing through the tired lace curtains. Dust quivers in its light. Pursuing its upward ascent. To where it goes up there he is unsure. He must ask her sometime he thinks quietly. Where did she go? The air has grown still, silent and cold as it does when she is upset. The old bench groans. Ah. There she is. Impatiently glowering from the corner. He smiles being soothed by her face. Her soft hair dances across her shoulders as though there is a breeze that follows her everywhere. He searches for the keys. Their familiarity beckoning him to come back. Stay awhile.




Sound. Filling the nothing that surrounds him and his old friend. It seeps into every corner drawing the emotion from all in its way. She seems to come from the light pouring on the warped sill. No. Perhaps the dust suspended in space? Such a small presence. Yet controlling every fiber of his being without a single word. He plays. She dances. Nothing can shatter the small world they've created. State of mind. Yes, that's what it is. An all encompassing state of mind. It flows from her and gathers somewhere in the middle. He can see it. Right there like it has always been. She is lifted by the sound and carried around the room. Turning and swirling and moving. Drawing everything into her. No. He decides it is her begging the music to follow. Either way he is a slave. A slave to both. She will never leave. Even if he wanted her too. Did he? Everyday her same enthralling presence fills his space. Calling him to this room where she presides over all. At his expense of course. For if he were to leave so would she. He could not bare this thought a second more. So he plays. In the day. In the night. Whenever she pleases. She comes from the corners of space and time it seems. Filling everything with sympathy.




Tears. Softly splattering on the keys. She sees. Although she is not looking. She could not. Even if she wanted too. The music stops. The dancing ends. Her tears begin their slow journey to floor below. But he is unaware. He cannot see through the blur of hot tears anymore. She turns to him. The same sympathy drowning her eyes. His head is down. His heart spilling onto the dust ridden floorboards. She turns to go. The moment has died along with them. Her presence is fading from the room. He can tell. He lifts his head. He gasps for air. His lungs tighten at the thought of him making her leave. He reaches out desperately for her. His hands meet nothing. Not even the linger of her scent has stayed behind. Nothing. Silence. Alone. He calls for her. Although he already knows there will not be an answer. He knows his heart wont long for her soon enough. Sadness fills him. Tears dry. Steady breaths.




Tomorrow. Maybe things will be different he thinks. Even though he knows better.





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