One of Those Days

by Caroline Rutz

Chapter One

It was one of those days where the listener of rock music turned to a classical station, only because the day seemed to demand it. It was one of those days where all the lights needed to be turned off so you could get the full effect of the gray light filtering in through the windows. The gray light sent out by the dim clouds in the sky on a somewhat cold day. It was one of those days where all tasks seemed pointless and impossible, and somehow wrong. It was one of those days that you just had to sit and stare out the window or lay on your floor in the pervading grayness and contemplate your life and other things. For some reason it was just one of those days.

I could sense him there and then at the same time I couldn't. He was there and not, just outside the veil, the veil that separates this world from the next. A veil that grows thinner and thicker depending on the day and the feeling it incorporated. I tried and failed to read the page in front of me. Going about the normal tasks was made fruitless by the mood filling the house and all of its rooms. My habit of reading a book with every meal, all two of them, was going to the wayside. Yes, only two because I never ate breakfast for whatever strange reason. A sigh fought to escape my lips, but gave up after finding it was too much effort to move the fading skin. The phone rang, echoing hollowly around me. I could almost imagine the sound waves dancing and bouncing from wall to wall. I slowly turned my head to look at the phone. I watched it move around in its cradle, and after five rings I had made up my mind to not answer it. Not because it didn't wish to talk to those that called, but because it was too tiring to stand up and walk over to it. I switched my gaze down to the bowl in front of me. The strawberry oatmeal I had made for lunch had become a lump in the bowl. The taste was still there; at least I thought it might be, but the heat and warmth had gone out of it, leaving it lifeless and unattractive. I gave my earlier sigh some ground as it passed out through my barely parted lips. Then after that bit of effort I sat, completely still, except for the necessary movements caused by my breathing. I was gathering energy. Hopefully, I would be able to gather enough to stand up and take my bowl over to the sink not only taking it there, but washing it as well, followed by a quick drop into the dishwasher. My fingertips caught my attention, distracting me for a while from my plan concerning the oatmeal filled bowl. My nails had grown quite long and a few had broken semi-raggedly, leaving jagged edges and strange shapes. I contemplated them for a long, still while. After a serious contemplation I had finally found a plan I was semi-interested in. Nevertheless, I still had to follow through with my first plan. Standing up, I pushed the chair back, grabbing hold of the bowl with my long fingers and their ragged tips. The dish landed in the white sink, looking rather dismal, since the only color was the, now very unhealthy looking, strawberry pieces and the slight cream color of the oatmeal, though the oatmeal blended almost completely with the white bowl. I looked at it, feeling my face twist into a mockery of disgust. The emotion was barely felt, yet overly expressed on my face. Time passed, and I finally resigned myself to washing the bowl also, even though I felt I had not gathered enough strength to do so. The oatmeal washed down the drain in cream colored lumps, dotted by pink-red spots, coerced by the high powered spray. After the last sticky bit was gone, I left the bowl in the sink. I didn't have enough energy to put it into the dishwasher. Neutrally happy with the completion of the small task I turned my thoughts back to the thoughts of an earlier, though not the earliest task, of the day. Absent-mindedly I wiped my hands on my jeans, turning away from the sink and turning to the room I had to go to next.

The hot water sloshed over my body, leaving behind burning trails of sensations on my skin. My ragged fingernails combed shampoo through my tangled brown hair. The fruit scent of the shampoo drifted into my nostrils and the shampoo itself slid down my face, shoulders, and chest, leaving behind its place in my hair. Seconds, then minutes ticked by, still I stood under the water, my mind was gone somewhere else with only a tiny bit of it left behind to understand and figure out the feelings and smells of the water and soap. When I was finally able to understand that the water had started to cool, I turned it off. Standing, dripping, the heat left by the hot water slowly left my skin. Before I could get to cold I reached for the towel, vigorously drying my hair off. Then after expending all of that energy I slowly and with frequent stops dried the rest of my body. A soft sound rang out into the air; surprised I wondered where it came from. I realized, a little belatedly, it had come from within me. Not sure what the sound meant I continued with my routine. Stepping out of the shower I dropped the towel into the basket, reaching for the lotion. I grabbed it. The green lotion triggered the memory of its scent before I even opened it. It smelled like pears. Not just regular pears mind you. It smelled like the ones that had that strange, special reddish spot on their otherwise greenish yellow skin. I opened it, raising it to my nose, inhaling its familiar intoxicating scent. I stood there for a portion of time. Half addicted to the scent, half lost in thoughts. Finally I made my way back to my head. I squeezed a small bit of lotion into my palm. It was roughly the size of a quarter. I rubbed it into my skin. It felt gross, but at the same time wonderful, wonderful only because it made me smell good. Slowly, with my ragged fingertips I massaged it onto my recently shaved legs, then onto my arms, wiping the remainder on my slightly rounded stomach. I took the two steps to the sink. The faucet shone dully in the light, reminding me it had not been cleaned for a while. Choosing to ignore it message for the time being I pulled at it causing water to flow. Adjusting it so it was just right, I washed the feeling of the lotion of my hands. I couldn't stand the way it felt on my hands. That done I considered getting dressed. The thought, too much work skittered across my mind, so I sat down on the toilet instead. I had to gather more energy if I was going to finish.

The sweater was warm and comforting. I reveled in it, before leaving the bathroom. My wet hair had been pulled up in a still dripping ponytail. Drops landed on the sweater turning it a darker red. The cuffs were getting ragged and so was the bottom hem. I took in this information, but didn't care for it. I decided to let the information slide back out. The ragged jeans I had been wearing earlier that morning clung to my hips. I pulled at them until they sat where they were supposed to. I had lost weight, but was still in between sizes. My bare feet shuffled against the carpet as I remembered to return to the bathroom. I needed to file my nails. One had snagged a string on my sleeve. The file sat in my cluttered drawer; the handle was black with a pink oval on it. I picked it up returning to my earlier seat on the toilet. I looked at my nails, studying them as I turned my hands this way and that. Finally satisfied with that little exercise I started to file them. Nail dust coated my finger and the rough blade of the file. I brushed the blade off against my jeans and started again.

The stretch of plush carpet looked like a marine patch of sea against the cream colored carpeted floor. I dug my bare toes in, and my newly filed nails topped the fingers and hands in my pockets. I stood there, for a good long time, before lifting one foot after the other to walk down the hallway towards the bedroom. Along the way I was distracted, distracted by the black and white photos decorating the walls. Stopping, so I could contemplate them further I used more time of my life. Eventually my thoughts left, daring to go to far away unknown places. Their vacations and adventures came to a close and we both drifted down the hallway to the bedroom. Pausing at the door, I touched the handle. It was cool. I removed my hand to look at the handle. It was faded and dull. At one point in time it had, had a bright look, but currently it was faded. It still somehow retained its quite, majestic dignity, even though it was hidden somewhere in the background. I put my hand back onto the door's handle. With a casual, well-known motion I opened the door. It swung open under my direction revealing the bedroom. The room was draped in shadows, for most of the gray light of the day had begun to fade and grow dark. With a subconscious resolution I walked in.

Chapter 2

The dresser stood silently to the left and the chair and desk sat just as quietly to my right. The bed lay directly in front of me. The blanket and sheets on the bed showed sleep patterns. But they only showed them on one side. The side I normally slept on. In the beginning I slept like I normally did. Sprawled across the entire bed, but in time I had trained myself to stay, more or less, on my side of the bed. Though he never minded when I seemed to sprawl on top of him. With newly manicured fingers I picked up his pillow. It smelled like him. A memory almost like a faded image played in front of my eyes, filling my vision. The blanket pooled halfway on the floor covering his feet. Black hair stood up in random spiky clumps and his bleary blue eyes looked at me unseeingly. Sleep coated them, and for a while he let it, before tiredly rubbing it away. The ragged T-shirt he wore to bed bore a faint logo. It was once legible but at this time was no longer. Just as ragged gray sweatpants covered his legs. I studied him some more until he finally got the sleep out of his eyes and he had completed the morning ritual of trying to brush his hair with his fingers. A sleepy, sweet smile crossed his face before the image started to fade out of view. Suddenly I dashed towards it, my arms wrapping around air. I had acted too late. I could feel the last bits of him fading away. I imagined his typical warmth in my arms, but that too faded away as reality reasserted itself. Sighing to myself, I backed away. I walked slowly, tiredly around the bed, as if the short dash of a few steps had drained me of energy. My pillow sat on the floor. It looked rather lonely, as it had been separated from its fellows on the bed. I picked it up. The soft, worn, periwinkle case felt comforting familiar. Instead of tossing it onto the bed and then continuing on for the day, I wrapped my arms tightly around it and sprawled out on the bed. With one hand I undid my ponytail, the other hand and arm snaked tightly around my captured pillow. Making sure it couldn't leave me. My hair now covered part of the sheet, like a dark pool. The hand with the rubber band returned to the pillow, only after securing the band around its wrist. I closed my hazel eyes for a few moments. Time passed around me in smoky tendrils. I was a separate entity altogether. It failed to shift me. Those few moments began to birth more moments, until time had truly wrapped itself around me, dragging me, down its smoky river. I drifted down the river, the water warm and lulling. My senses dulled, and eventually I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke I remembered dreaming of him. Of the way he looked, smelled, and sounded. Those memories brought me warmth as the dreams themselves started to fade back into dream world. Rubbing my eyes with my knuckle I turned my head towards the clock. I had moved in my sleep so it was difficult to see it. Craning me neck I stared at the neon green numbers. They read a quarter after six. I blinked lazily. The numbers stayed the same. I had slept for almost two hours. Sitting up was a difficult ordeal for I always had problems starting the motions of getting out of bed. The blankets were warm and comforting and easy to slip back into. Just as easy to slip into as sleep itself. After winning the battle against further sleep and the curled up warmth offered by the blankets, I sat on the edge of the bed. I sat there attempting to stretch and bring my sleep-scattered thoughts back into my head and back in line. I was always groggy and scatter brained for the first few minutes, but slowly as the first few minutes passed into the second set of minutes my thoughts clarified. I got up, putting the pillow, somewhat reluctantly back on the bed. Memories came back to me as I walked over to the desk. I reached to straighten the pile of papers. Another vision came before me. It was faded just like the first one. He sat at the desk, tapping its smooth dark surface with his pencil. He, like I, tended to write almost exclusively in pencil. He was trying to work out something. I couldn't tell what it was. The image was starting to fade, and it only got fainter the closer I got. Hair hung in shaggy messy strands around his face. I saw his hand move to brush it out of his eyes. Suddenly I realized what he was doing. He couldn't figure out how to write the next paragraph in his story. His laptop had been pushed off to one side and scribbled sentences must have covered the page in front of him. The tapping of his pencil slowed, and then stopped altogether. Frantically it raced across the page, and the just as quickly as it started it stopped. During all of this activity I had inched closer. I now stood next to him. He pushed the pad aside, pulling his computer in front of him. His fingers raced across the keys, faster and faster they danced until they slowed just like the pencil taps had. He turned, like he knew or sensed I was there. A smile crossed crookedly across his face. I automatically reached out to move the hair from his eyes, and utter keep writing. He faded as soon as I touched him. The words died on my lips never to be uttered. He was gone, gone as strangely as he had come.

I felt defeated. Like I was the one who made him leave. I was the one who banished him back behind the barrier. This defeat hung on my shoulders like a winter shroud. I carried it with me as I walked out of the room. I stopped. I stopped to look back at his desk hoping he would reappear. He didn't. I waited, alternating my gaze from the desk to the bed and back again. He didn't come back. Yet, I stalled for ten more minutes, and then I firmly grasped my defeat in cold fingers and left the room. The handle turned under my hand as I closed the door. The hallway was cloaked in shadows, looming darkly in front of me. I walked a few steps in the dark. Slowly, but surely making my way closer to the light switch. The house creaked under me. Startled I tried to get my head around the strange creak, until I realized the house was just settling. Still a little unnerved I waited with baited breath. It creaked again. The sound had come from the bedroom. I ran towards it and threw open the door, hoping once again he had come back. No one was there. I closed the door again, this time I didn't wait and peer around the room. I walked down the hall with quicker steps; my feet covered in shadows until I reached the light switch and turned the hall lights on. The darkness instantly disappeared. The house creaked almost if it was apologizing for its false alarm. I just sighed in response and continued down the hallway.

The pervading gloom filled the house as I walked on. I decided to turn on a few lights here and there as I made my way to the best room in the house. Something about the atmosphere resisted change so I left most of the lights off. My footsteps fell silently against the floor. I paused, listening, standing right outside of the room that had become my haven. The wind rustled the trees outside, sending my wind chimes into a small symphony. A small smile crossed my lips. I opened the glass doors that led to my workshop and library. On the left of the room my art materials collected themselves, on the right a small couch sat surrounded by bookshelves and armed with a small end table. My sketchbooks and colored pencils sat in their respective boxes while a half-finished piece of art lay on the table. The angled table was covered in small pieces of paper. The pieces held bits of information I wanted to remember in reference to the piece I was working on, names of my inspiration, color schemes, and possible designs. The couch was a worn overstuffed gray affair, with a yellow and purple blanket lying half on half off one arm. The blanket was just as worn as the couch; it was a present I had gotten in my early teen years. A present I had and did use quite often to curl up with my hot chocolate and a good book. It was a treasured belonging. The table next to it held some book I had forgotten to put away. I walked up to it, touching the cover with two fingers. It felt wonderfully familiar. It was one of my favorite books. One I read again, and again despite knowing the story inside and out. I picked it up, absent-mindedly hugging it to myself. I searched the shelves for its place. I found it on the second bookshelf, third shelf. The shelf housed a slim empty spot. After a little work the book went back in its place on my overcrowded bookshelf. I ran my hand over the spins of the books, feeling a stunned awe at my collection. I had three more bookshelves devoted to books in other parts of the house, but still the collection in this room alone was stunning. I had one entire wall filled with four bookshelves and two on the wall next to the fireplace. The shelving unit on the other left side of the fireplace held more art supplies and art books. As I touched the books I recalled the hours I spent in bookstores, looking over books, touching them, picking and choosing this on or that one. Those were hours I had enjoyed so much. I discontinued my gazing at the books to turn my gaze at the large picture over the mantel. It was a large art print. Since the left wall and part of the window was covered in pre-sketches and color schemes, I had decided someone else's art needed to be placed above the mantel. It was a work by one of my favorite artists. I smiled, touching the smooth frame with one finger. My wrist touched something cold. I moved my hand back to pick up the smooth metal frame. I lifted it towards my self. The metal turned my fingertips to ice. The picture was one of him. He was sitting in the beach, looking out at the waves. His expression was one of content happiness and deep thoughts. He didn't know I had taken his picture. If he had known he would have protested endlessly against it. Another faded image began to grow in front of me. This time the entire scene changed and I was once again on the beach with him. The sun and sand were warm and the ocean had a soft gentle lull to it. The sky was a beautiful smooth blue filled with tiny white dots of clouds here and there. His black hair blew in the soft wind and his blue eyes were closed against the sun or maybe they were just closed in enjoyment. His pale skin was already starting to turn pink, while I, somewhat unfortunately, was turning a darker brown. He turned to look at me, a broad smile splitting his face. He laughed, and then flopped down on the sand. His arm pulled me closer, and I rested against him. Everything was warm and bright. And everything just felt right. I drew comfort from him, closing my eyes to let my other senses examine the scene. The feeling of his arm against me faded and I was once again in reality. The metal had warmed slightly in my hands. I hugged the frame to myself. I shuffled over to the couch sinking tiredly into it overstuffed plushness. I pulled the blanket over my feet and legs. I let my gaze become unfocused as I lost myself in thought.

I stayed lost in my thoughts until my stomach told me it was time to eat. It rumbled half-heartedly. It was still unsure of the times it would get fed, since I ate at random times during the day. I stood up, placing the picture back in its place of honor. I put it there, making sure I didn't glance at it again. I wasn't sure if I could handle another hazy vision. I left the room, leaving the doors open to head back into the kitchen. I opened the freezer. My toes tapped against the cold floor, my fingers tapped against the handle, while my eyes gazed at the contents before me. I had stocked up on frozen pizzas when I had last visited the grocery store. It was one of those foods I could live on. It was like ramen soup. For some strange reason I could eat ramen for days on end. That is, I could eat it when I decided I was up to eating. I picked up one pizza, placing it on the counter. I closed the freezer door slowly, watching the frozen air puff out for a few moments. It disappeared as the door cut it off from the outside world. I walked past the sink to get a tray and a knife. When I walked back the second time, I looked at the dish in the sink. Memories of my earlier failure came back to me. I laid the tray and knife down. The bowl felt strangely cold, too cold. My fingers quickly become cold. Opening the dishwasher door with one hand, I put the bowl in the top rack with the other. A few scattered dishes lay here and there, almost like random corpses on a battlefield. They had fought the good fight, but no one had bothered to put them in their proper place. I closed the door, hearing the dishes settle in their racks. I paused for a moment before touching the knife. The blade gleamed dully in the light. It reminded me of something, but the thought was lost as my stomach started to protest. I cut open the pizza and placed it on the tray. I put it in the oven, after following most of the directions. The knife returned to its proper place, and the plastic and cardboard from the pizza were smashed before being put into the garbage. With all of that completed, I sat at the table. My body felt strangely worn out, as if the simple task of putting a frozen pizza in the oven had stolen all of my energy. The single overhead light bathed the table in its glow. I was half in half out of the light. I tapped the table with my fingers. Yawning, I rested both arms on the table, before resting my head on them. I just sat there thinking, thinking of everything and nothing. While I sat thinking, a part of me waited patiently for my pizza to finish cooking.

Chapter 3

I heated the milk in the microwave. Watching the plastic pot spin around for a while until a thought, a thought from an early part of my life came unbidden to my mind. Standing in front of microwaves can give you cancer. The thought took a brief moment to register before I moved. I still to this day was unsure if my mother had been telling the truth or had been teasing me. The oversized mug I had been given for a past birthday sat on the counter with the hot chocolate powder already in it. The colorful swirls that decorated it created a mosaic like picture, a picture that showed the different phases of the moon against a dark blue background. A periwinkle border with purple stars surrounded it. The handle was the same color as the stars. Earlier, I had sat at the table, upon finishing my pizza, for twenty minutes. After that I decided to put the dishes away before my will got washed away. I went through all the proper steps, scrubbing, rinsing, and even putting everything in the dishwasher. Now, thirty minutes later, after gathering energy, I was making hot chocolate. On occasion I made the hot beverage and ventured out to the second floor balcony. It was starting to get warmer so my sweater would, hopefully, be all the layered warmth I needed. The microwave beeped at me. I stared at it, my look shifting to a glare as it beeped again. This time it sounded adamant. Opening the door, I picked the pot up with a hot pad. For whatever reason I had a fear of touching hot things or things perceived to be hot. Shortly after the hot chocolate process had been completed I ventured off towards the balcony. The steaming mug was clutched in my hand, with my sweater wrapped protectively around my fingers and palm.

I opened the balcony door with one hand. The door slid open without too much difficulty. I closed it behind me, listening to hear the soft click. Turning my ears away from the door, I started listening to the waves crash upon the beach a short distance below and away from me. I could see the waves lick at the sand with frothy white tongues. The moonlight illuminated the waves, while at the same time; the night changed the normally crystal clear aquamarine waves to a solid blue darkness. Taking a sip of my hot chocolate I looked up at the sky. Clouds floated across the midnight sky like purple haze, momentarily blocking the moon and surrounding stars. The moon's faded light illuminated the clouds until a wayward wind blew them away. The clouds danced across the atmosphere, while stars twinkled in laughter at their antics. I lost my thoughts as I gazed at the heavens. A soft wind brought me back to reality. My grip tightened around the mug as the soft breeze that moved the clouds came down. It moved through the trees sending leaves and random flower petals into the air. They leaped around until finally settling. The faint smell of flowers accompanied the wind, tickling my nose. The cool zephyr found a way into my sweater creating a small chill. Nevertheless, I sipped at my hot chocolate, while watching the ocean try to eat the shore and the clouds' attempted journey across the star-studded field.

Shortly there after the night had grown to cold for my tastes, so I traveled back inside. I had lost track of time, while I had been outside. The beauty of the night had captured my mind. After leaving the mug, filled with water, in the sink I walked down the hall to my bedroom. I turned on the stereo, letting soft relaxing music fill the room. The comforting blue light from the stereo was the only other light, besides the moon, in my dark bedroom. As the stereo glowed, somewhat eerily in the dark, I peeled off my clothes, letting them fall into little heaps around the room. A short couple of moments after pulling on my worn pajamas I flopped down on the bed. I let the Celtic c.d. play, allowing it to surround me in soft Irish lullabies. In my mind's eye I could see the music flow around the room in soft greens and yellows. Pulling the blanket up to my shoulders I closed my eyes and let the music take me away. Eventually the notes of the tin penny whistle and fiddle lulled me to sleep.

Chapter 4

Upon waking the next morning I recalled my dream. It came back to me in strange fragments. Brief glimpses of what had occurred in my head during the night. I dreamed of the ocean. I was walking along the beach, watching the calm waves loll back and forth. They barely even stirred the sand. A crescent moon shone above me. The sky was cloudless, expect for a few far off on the horizon. Even then they might have just been small puffs of smoke. I was wearing this light weight purple dress with a long shawl. I remember it the best, because it flowed around me. It wasn't blown by the wind; it just flowed all by itself. Maybe small sylphs had gathered around me to play with the yards of purple material, I wasn't sure. Something else happened...Flashes of something kept coming back to me, but I couldn't fathom what the images were. They were too fragmented and hazy for me to figure out. I lay in bed for ten minutes, trying to puzzle out the images. With a deep sigh I got out of bed. The faded sunlight shone in my room. I pushed the blankets off and swung my legs off the bed. Walking over to the window to investigate why the sunshine was so weak, when it normally was so strong, I pushed back the curtain. Gray clouds were rolling across the sun. They were coming in fast; it was almost as if they were trying to conquer the sky.

I walked on the beach later that afternoon, in a subconscious attempt to recapture the lost images in my dream. The water was calm. It came up and down the shore in soft repetitions. I felt a strange need to look behind me minutes into my walk, my footsteps where the only marks on the beach. The house loomed behind me. It lay nestled at the top of the hill, a hill that gradually sloped down to the beach, becoming even with the sandy ground. My long shawl floated around me. Even though I was warm enough in my oversized sweatshirt, I had felt the urge to put the shawl on. It echoed pieces of my dream as I walked on. The air was starting to get cold again, as mist rolled off the water, coming closer and closer to the shore. I stopped, pausing to look out at the water. My dream came back in small flits and flitters, never quite enough to recognize what had happened. I wrapped my arms around myself, as a small chill started crawling across my body. It felt like tiny fingers coated in ice were stroking the back of my neck. I shivered involuntarily. I hugged the shawl around my shoulders. The waters remained calm, while small patches of sunlight fought to break through the gray clouds. A raindrop landed my face. I had never really liked being out in the rain, but the day seemed to call out to me. Saying today is the day you dance. The day you dance in the rain. More drops began to fall, turning into a cold, soft drizzle. A hint of a smile curled my lips. As the rain grew heavier, I began to dance. Using the shawl, I twirled around and around, feeling laughter come to me. The laughter burst forth from my mouth as I danced. I laughed till it hurt, and twirled around until the world spun with me. This was the last part of my dream, twirling under the moon, feeling my life flow through my veins. I could feel it now. My life moved through my body, echoing the movements of the water in front of me.

I trudged soddenly through the evergreen trees and oaks. Small mushrooms and bursts of flowers covered the wood's floor. The small patch of trees outside the house had always remained wild and free. The wind stirred the wind chimes causing them to swing back and forth. They created a soft wind aria, as I walked on. Looking down at the mushrooms and flowers it was hard not to picture small fairies and woodland beings flittering and running around. I could see them hiding under the mushrooms, sitting up high in the branches of the trees, or peeking out from behind a clump of bluebell. I had always been adamant that fairies weren't these tiny creatures. I had always said they were as tall as humans were, which in my case, wasn't that tall. Still I felt like something was here with me. The images of the small fairies faded. Putting my hand against the nearest tree trunk I felt the life there. I leaned against it resting my forehead against the rough bark. I was feeling the life flow of some mythical dryad. The tree spirit stirred under my fingers. I had woken her from her deep sleep. Feeling a little guilty, I took a few steps back. Bowing to the tree, I silently apologized for the intrusion. After getting up out of my bow, I looked at the tree. Her face looked at me. It was hidden in the bark, but her earth brown eyes watched me. I smiled and continued on my way.

I walked out of the bathroom, toweling my hair as I went. I had taken a long hot shower to wash away the cold, the cold that had sunk into my bones, after permeating skin and muscle. My wet clothes had been put in the dryer and my delicate shawl had been put on top of it, left to absorb the heat. With the towel draped over my shoulders, I searched the house for my glasses. Searching in that room and the next, I found them in my library/art room. They rested sleepily against the top of the latest book I had been reading. I picked the glasses and the book up. I thought for a moment which room I wanted to be in. Sitting down to think it over, I decided within moments of settling that this would be the room. I didn't feel like moving again. The walk had tired me out and so had the small chores of living that I had just completed. With a content sigh, I sank further into the overstuffed couch. The blanket rested on the arm, so I pulled it down to cover my cold feet. Within moments my thoughts had drifted off. I sat there for a moment's eternity; resting my body, while my mind went off by itself.

I put the book down shortly after my eyes got tired, resting my glasses on top of the vibrant cover. I had passed time reading, and now it was time for dinner. I smiled to myself. Stretching my limbs out, I considered getting up. My body felt heavy. I pushed the blanket off my feet, yet I still didn't get up. Suddenly, I stood up; the action had preceded the thought. Standing there, blinking in surprise, I tried to figure out how I had gotten from point A to point B. Shrugging; I walked out of the room, silently accepting what had happened even if I did not completely understand it. The semi-wet towel, from earlier in the day, clung coolly to my shoulders, as I walked down the hall.

After dinner I adjourned to my room for sleep. The dishes had been done. I had followed through with all the steps. While I washed them it had started to get dark, the sun had started to move. I passed the porch on my way to the bedroom. The sun's soft glow had started across the water. The pink and orange hues had caught my eye as they filtered through the glass. I had arrived in time to see the sunset. I cocked my head to one side, like a small bird looking at something new. Playing with the ragged cuffs of my sweatshirt, I was strangely hesitant about going out to see it. I decided in a moment and at the same time I did not decide. Once again my body had acted before the thought could complete itself. The door was open then closed behind me, before I was sure what was happening. My feet padded closer to the railing. I draped my arms across it; my mind and body were back in sync. They followed the same rhythm as the sun draped its light across the water. The water changed hues and colors under the sun's influence. The sky turned pink, while the clouds turned a deeper shade of rose. My hands sought warmth in my sleeves, while my insides shivered. The motion eventually made its way all through my body. The pink disc of the sun sank lower and lower, slowly disappearing beneath the waves. A strange thought flitted across my mind. The water is eating the sun. The thought was there and then it was gone, leaving behind one sign of its passing. The one sign being a slight unsettling of my stomach, but that too quickly left. My fingertips brushed against the wood grain of the railing. The wind chimes tinkled faintly. A few notes here and there made their way to my ears. I drummed my fingers against the railing for a moment, listening. Suddenly a memory came as fast as the earlier thought concerning the sun and water. It attacked me like some kind of assassin. It slipped the knife in before I could fend it off. I turned my face to the right as the memory, of holding his hand while we watched the sunset, came more into focus. I knew the faded image would be there, a vision of him. My hand felt warmer, but colder at the same time as he touched it. He leaned against the railing next to me. His hand firmly, but gently, grasped mine. His hair moved in the breeze as did my own dark locks. It was almost real. He turned and smiled, moving closer to me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath; my heart had started to speed up, its new rhythm pounding against my chest. I opened my eyes again, peeking through the lashes. He was still there, but not quite the same as before. I squeezed his hand. My fingers passed through his, they moved just like they would if nothing was there. His hand re-captured mine, this time I didn't move my hand. I wanted it to stay where it was, trapped within his own. I could feel the surprise and sadness on my face when I looked up at him. He turned his gaze towards me once again, but he wasn't smiling. A serious expression had taken residence on his face. Blue eyes, under a furrowed brow, studied my face, for a second, and forever. It was like he was searching for something, after a period of time he smiled, and then began to fade. I squeezed his hand again, desperate to hold on, knowing in my heart the image was going away, but hoping it wouldn't. The sun broke through him, sending its last rays through the image. He completely disappeared as soon as the sun did, leaving me alone in the brand new night. I squeezed my eyes shut, unsure of the emotions swimming through me. I opened my eyes. The moon had started to take over the sky, and a few stars peeked out from the dark folds of the heavens. I shifted my line of sight to look out at the water. The water moved gently, calmly back and forth. My breathing slowed, as did the beating of my heart, as I watched it. It lulled me into a trance, while my emotions twirled around inside the back of my head, waiting to be identified.

Only after time had passed, and the water freed me from the trance, was I able to walk back inside. I felt tired, achy and sore all over. My body felt heavy again, like iron chains had been tied to all my limbs. I shuffled across the ultramarine carpet, past black and white photographs obscured by shadows. The door to the bedroom was open and inviting. I walked in; flipping the cream colored light switch. I stopped. The room stood around me, but I felt too tired to take it in. With a few exhausted steps I made it to the bed, sitting down on it to recover. Eventually I fell backwards, lying half on half off the bed. My feet dangled off the end, toes barely touching the floor. Earlier sights of the sun fading beneath the multi-colored waves danced around me, as I lay there, my body still and unmoving. I lay like that for what seemed like hours. And after that seemingly long time I decided to get up. So with stiff, slow motions I stood. Walking over to the dresser, I touched the handle. It was smooth under my fingers. Easily my hand closed around it and I pulled it open. I lifted a pajama set from the drawer. It was clumped together for I never folded my laundry or if I did, which was very rare, it just ended up in this messy form anyway. I took off my day clothes, exchanging them for my night uniform. The worn fabric of the pants had a few holes here and there; the T-shirt boasted a faded logo. Suddenly out of nowhere a smell assaulted my nose. It smelled of warmth and spices, and of the outdoor air. It smelled like him. I had unconsciously put on his pajamas, the drawstring pants fit tightly against my hips, but I had still put them on, unaware that they were his until his smell lofted out of the fabric. The T-shirt stretched tightly across my chest. I stood there, emotions flooding through me once again, but I was too stunned to do anything, but stand there. My hands balled into fists opening and closing in methodical movements, while my face leaked my feelings until even those sensations left it, leaving behind a dull blank face. My hands stilled, and my face remained blank for long measurements of time. The shock gradually wore off to the point I was able to move, but not enough for me to understand what I was feeling. I made my way to the bed. Lowering my body onto it was a mindless task. One I easily accomplished. I grasped the blankets, feeling the embroidered patterns as I moved it. Reaching for his pillow I curled up on the bed; the blankets pulled up around me. I hugged his pillow tightly to my chest. I was assaulted by his smell again as I clutched the cool fabric. I was still too paralyzed to do anything except lie there in the dark, my dark adjusted eyes seeing the mountains and valleys of the blankets and the outlines of furniture. My fingers moved convulsively against his pillow. A chill had settled in my body, leaving me cold to the core. Moments passed, and I just stayed in the same position. Finally after the cold's icy grip started to melt away, and the warmth of the layered blankets took over, my mind also began to sense freedom. I couldn't escape it anymore; reality came crashing in around me, silently causing utter destruction. A tear escaped my right eye, running over my eyelashes. It was followed by another, this one escaping from my left eye. More tears escaped eventually leaving in a steady flow. I hugged his pillow, burying my face in it as I wept. Exhaustion caught up with me and as it grasped me in its claws, I started to fall asleep, even as the tears continued to journey down my cheeks.

Chapter 5

"Did you want any of this?" He waved the piece of toast in my general direction. "No, you know me." He looked slightly surprised then looked at the clock. It read in bright green nine forty five. "Oh, because you just woke up. Yeah I know. Sorry sometimes I forget." "It's fine." I smiled and stood up from the table. I wrapped my arms around his waist leaning my head against his back. It was warm. His shoulders moved as he prepared his breakfast. I could hear him eating his toast. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent as it mingled with the smells coming from the stove. He smelled of warmth and spices. "You okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine." I still held onto him after I had spoken. The thing that worried him was the fact that I rarely initiated physical contact for no reason. I wouldn't just come up and hug him for the sake of it. I always had an underlying reason. It was sort of strange, but he understood. He moved around the kitchen dragging me along with him. I felt loved. After a while of hindering his movements I let go and went back to my seat and my cup of hot tea. The mug on the table was a small white one with the World Team logo. It had been given to me as a gift back in my college days. I took a sip of tea. He set his plate on the table and started eating. I opened the newspaper and laid it out in front of him. He smiled in response and started reading. I felt a second of jealousy. I wanted his attention today. I didn't look any different; I didn't take any extra preparations on my hair or make up, which I never wore anyway. I just wanted him to love on me today. It was raining outside as we finished our breakfast.

After he finished the dishes he walked over to me. I was staring off into space as normal; since it was really too early for me to be completely awake. "I love you." He whispered in my ear. I smiled. He had noticed how I was feeling. I didn't know why I doubted he would; he had never failed to yet. I guess deep down I was just in everlasting awe that I would be loved by someone so amazing. I never truly felt worthy of his love. He held me close for a few long moments. I breathed in his scent once again. He whispered words of love against my ear. We stayed like that for a brief, but long moment in eternity, while the rain continued to fall softly against the roof.

He snored softly as he slept. It was cute. It made me want to tap the end of his nose. I shook his shoulder gently until he woke up. His hair fell into his eyes as he tried to look at me. His blue eyes were bright, but faded at the same time. They lacked his normal spark as he attempted to wake up. After he had succeeded I tapped his nose. He wriggled it before rubbing it. He smiled his cute crooked smile. I smiled back. My smile was more of the dimpled type. I didn't think it was nearly as cute as his. He touched my face hesitantly, since his hands were cold. I held his hand against my face with my own hands. "You're beautiful." He whispered in his morning roughed voice. The words sank into my heart. I wasn't sure how to respond. I didn't think I was beautiful, but for some reason he did. I just held his hand tighter. The early morning gray light filtered through the window, bringing a dull glow to the room. It light up his face with incredible contrasts. Half of his face seemed to be buried in shadow. He stroked my face once more before letting go. I smiled as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes, while I finished getting ready for the gray day ahead of us.

I was thoroughly absorbed in my work. I carefully, very carefully and slowly traced the outline for my newest color pencil piece. A slight slip of the hand could ruin the line. I was in my art room slash library. His newest book rested on the end table next to the worn couch. The cover housed one of my illustrations. I turned up the music next to me. There was something about this art piece that seemed to demand that I play rock music. Metal inspired cello strains slipped out of my stereo system as Apocalyptica played on. The color pencils moved in my hand and as I held two of them and colored with one of them. I switched colors again searching for that perfect blend between the two of them. After I put those two down, I started shading with the third. Upon the completion of that section I straightened my back and rubbed my eyes. Suddenly, now that I wasn't concentrating so hard on the picture before me I felt like someone was watching me. I jerked around to look at the doorway, he stood there. Leaning nonchalantly against it, hands tucked into the pockets of his rag tag jeans. "Hey." "Hi." I replied somewhat shyly, I was embarrassed that I hadn't noticed his presence earlier. "How long where you there?" I wiped my hands on my jeans and ran a hand through my hair. "Long enough." "Long enough for what?" "To see you at work. I love watching you work; you get this look of concentration and the tip of your tongue sticks out just a little bit. Or even better you get really close to your picture at just stare at it like it's supposed to know exactly what you're thinking." He pushed off from the wall and walked over. "Can I see it?" "Yeah, it's not my best though." He looked over my shoulder. He didn't touch the paper to pick it up; a careless touch could leave a minute crease on the page. It was a picture of an angel. The angel perched on the edge of a pillar, her black wings unfurled behind her. Her long hair and skirt flowed round the pillar blown by an unseen wind. "I like it. Is it another one in your alchemy collection?" "Yeah she is. See the mark on her shoulder? I haven't colored it in yet." "I see it. It looks nice. I like these new pieces a lot." He was referencing the last series I was working on. They were art pieces inspired by the anime show Full Metal Alchemist. He ran a hand through my hair, pulling gently at the hair at the base of my neck. "I was starting to get hungry. Do you want me to make something?" "That would be great. I'm really hungry now that I'm thinking about it. " My stomach rumbled right on cue. I wrapped my arms around my stomach trying to contain the sound, feeling embarrassed. He smiled and kissed my head. I watched him walk away, once again in awe at the fact he loved me as much as he did. Well, actually I was amazed at the fact he loved me at all.

It rained for the next couple of days, but as soon as a few weak rays of sunlight broke through the cloud barrier we were out at the beach. I had my long purple scarf wrapped around my neck to keep all the cold out. He ventured bravely outside with just a light sweatshirt on. I was more wary and frightened of the cold for I had a heavy sweatshirt on. We held hands as we sat on the beach.
The waves lapped gently at the shore. The water had swollen with all the rain that had been poured into it. It was further up the shore than normal. Nevertheless, we sat just out of its reach. The overcast sky loomed above us. Every once in a while a weak beam of light would break through, lending the idea of warmth to the day. The wind came down on us; it played with our hair and managed to find all of those invisible holes in our clothes as it brought the cold directly against our skin. He pulled me closer when he saw that I was shivering. We sat there, huddled together against the elements. It was moments like this that brought me some of the greatest happiness. We just sat in silence and enjoyed the moment. We didn't just enjoy the moment we savored every second of it. Embedding it into our memories, for each moment like this had a slightly different flavor and had to be placed away in a secret box to be savored again at some later date. The moment went on and on. We sat like that for almost an hour. I noticed it first. The first rain drop signaling the next torrent of rain plopped right down on my head. It ran against my scalp and found its way to my face. It left a chilly trail behind it. The second drop came down on him. These two drops were followed quickly by the third, fourth, and fifth. Soon a light mist was dancing off our bodies and the sand around us. He smiled at me, inviting me to stay and savor the next few moments in the mist before it turned into a torrent. I nodded my head in silent agreement despite my hatred of the rain. He grasped my hands and we spun around in circles. Over, and over again we spun. Laughter erupted from our lips as the rain started to fall harder. The rain left small marks in the sand around the larger marks left by our rapid spinning.

We walked through the woods, careful lest we step inside any mushroom circles or trample on any of the delicate flowers growing in between the gnarled roots of the trees and the random clumps of grass. The wind chimes made a soft tinkling sound as the wind moved. Here in the trees it moved slower, softer. It barely touched us in the safety of the woody haven. "She's watching us." He pointed to the earth brown eyes hidden in the nearby tree's bark. "She has to make sure we aren't going to hurt her tree." I smiled and looked up at his face. He was lost in thought. He was gone for a few moments, but returned before he missed his body to much. "Yeah, she's guarding this grove." He grasped my hand and walked back to the house. I heard him whisper a word of comfort to the dryad watching us as we left.

Chapter 6

We sat close to each other, sipping our hot chocolate. The chill had crept down into my bones, keeping my core cold despite the dry, warm clothes. He moved closer to me. His radiated warmth started to work its way throughout my body. I sighed contentedly, leaning against him. For a few moments we sat, it was a snapshot of peace, serenity. I was lost in it. Out of nowhere he broke the spell. I followed him, but it took a little longer. "Let's go on the balcony and watch the stars." I nodded, as he grabbed the blanket. He put his empty mug down and grabbed my hand.

The door to the balcony closed shut with a soft metallic sound. He sat on the swing and looked at me expectantly. I felt a smile cross my face as I sat down. It was partly a smirk, but mostly a smile. The blanket enveloped both of us. The star's soft light filtered its way through the clouds. The sky was a velvet midnight blue and the moon was resplendent in her autumn robes. Her full face looked down on us in our moment of blissful silence. He turned to look at me, I was distracted by the moon, but realized before to long that he was staring at me. "You're beautiful." His blue eyes were serious. I wrinkled my face in response, I wasn't beautiful. "Whether or not you believe me it's still true." He smiled, but underneath it there was something more. I felt a frown appear on my face before I could stop it. "What's wrong?" As he asked a slight look of worry crossed his face. "Nothing." "No what is it? I can always tell when there's something there." A sigh escaped my lips; it was embarrassing how insecure I was. "I'm paranoid you are going to disappear one day. I know you would never leave me on purpose, but what if something takes you away from me?" My face started to turn red, but thankfully he couldn't see it in the muted light. "I'm not planning on going anywhere soon." He was teasing me, but his tone changed when he saw I was really serious this time. "Don't worry; I know you could handle it if anything happened. You're strong like that." "Maybe...but I don't want anything to happen." I snuggled against him. "I don't want to be alone." I whispered. "You won't. I'll always be here." He tapped the area above my heart. I reflected for a moment. What he said sounded a bit corny, but it was true. A place in my heart had been dedicated to him and I knew it would always belong to him.

The next morning he woke up early. Despite his earlier than normal wakefulness I had beat him by an hour. I sat at the desk waiting and watching. My hair was pulled back from my face in a no nonsense type of bun and my clothes were dressy, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. He looked me over. "Wha..." The word barely left his mouth. The blue of his eyes filtered through his black hair. "Art show today, followed by the gallery opening tonight." "Oh..."He nodded, attempting to wake up further. "Come on, you have a meeting today remember? Big important writer has to go see his editor." I teased him as he moved to the edge of the bed. His fingers played with the hem of his t-shirt with its faded logo. A smile crossed his face; it was faint as if he was unconsciously happy about something. For a few seconds he stayed frozen, then as if inspired he stood up. He looked around for his clothes. "I left them out for you, there in the bathroom. He smiled at me, it was a big unguarded smile, and I was slightly taken aback. "Thanks." I watched him walk out of the bedroom, moments later I heard the water turn on. I was surprised he seemed to be so happy and thankful. I had just listened to him tell me what he was going to wear. I had pulled it out for him after I had gotten dressed, deep down knowing he would forget what he had picked, and that he would have to go through the entire process again. I stretched, a huge yawn escaping my lips as I did. Morning always came too early.

I made his coffee for him. I had always sworn I would never be this domestic, since I considered myself domestically challenged, but time and love had changed me. Well, maybe it wasn't that big of a change in me. He still did a lot of the cleaning and cooking, more than I probably did anyway. I smiled as I remembered how he had cleaned the house one Saturday afternoon. It had taken him forever, but he had persevered. I never would have lasted that long. After the coffee had started brewing I sat down at the table, further contemplating my life. Thoughts, words, images, and emotions all circled around inside my mind as I sat there. My body was perfectly still as I lost myself. Suddenly something jabbed into my side. A shrill squeak poured out from me. I jumped at the same time, nearly falling off of my chair in the process. I glared at him as he came into my line of sight. I muttered something uncomplimentary about him, before complaining outright. "Why did you do that? You are so mean!" He just smiled, amused at me as I fake pouted. I sighed dramatically before returning his smile, as I felt the smile cross my face my momentary pout disappeared. There were a few moments of comfortable silence before I decided to ask him a question. "So are you going to be at the gallery opening?" "I promised! So of course I will be there!" He patted my shoulder before getting his coffee. "I'm glad." One small smile, more of a nostalgic expression, appeared on my face. My expression changed moments before I spoke. "I got to go, just thought I would wait to say goodbye." After putting his coffee down he turned towards me. "Have fun at the art show." "Thanks have fun at your meeting." "You know I always do." A hint of sarcasm crept into his voice accompanied by a wry smile. His arms wrapped around me, yanking me into an embrace. My body snuggled against him. A few minutes passed before he released me, after the release a few more moments passed where he just studied me. After he finished he walked me over to the front door. "I'll see you tonight." He said quietly. "See you. I love you." He paused for a second, momentarily taken aback at my sudden seriousness. "I love you too." The door started to close, but I stopped it so I could watch him walk back to the kitchen. He looked strange in his somber black suit and black shirt. His blood red tie had been crooked the last time I had seen it. The somewhat scatterbrained writer in him never could fully give itself over to focusing on getting dressed. Resisting the urge to go back inside and fix his tie, I headed out my car.

Chapter 7

It rained the entire way there. Gray clouds rolled across the sky bringing dancing lightening and rumbling thunder with them. As I drove on I was incredibly grateful all of my art pieces were already at the gallery. All I had to worry about was showing up and looking semi-presentable. The hard part wasn't until much later in the evening. I had to dress and look like a respectable adult for the gallery opening. Shrugging, I released that worry from my mind. My dress was in the car with plastic over it and all my jewelry and things of that nature were in my oversize purse. In the end it was to early to worry, the part that involved me truly dressing up wasn't for a few hours. My body continued on auto-pilot towards the gallery as my mind, somewhat absentmindedly, thought about whether or not he had made it to his meeting okay.

My little black car pulled into a somewhat nearby parking spot. Before I could get out of the car and step into the pouring rain my cell phone went off. A ring, that sounded like it came out of the movie The Matrix sang from the black hole that was my purse. I frantically dug around inside it, that ring meant one thing and one thing only, he was calling me. I found the cell phone just in time. "Hello?" "Hey." His voice comforted me. "I got here just so you know. I'm all in one piece." His voice sounded somewhat flat, or rather emotionless. He always sounded slightly off over the phone. "I'm glad. I just arrived at the World Myth Gallery." "Already?" "Yeah, traffic was really light, surprisingly." "That's good, well my meeting is supposed to start in like five minutes so I'll let you go." "Okay, good luck, love you." "Love you too. See you tonight." "Bye." I heard the soft click which signified he had hung up. My own phone closed with a responding click before returning to its place in my purse. I spent a few minutes just feeling the air move in and out of my lungs. The rain pattered down on my windows. I stared unfocused at it, it appeared to be blurry. Shortly after I had stared enough to fulfill some kind of unconscious desire I gathered my courage and my dress before heading out into the rain.

Chapter 8

The day had passed rather uneventfully, the art show was clearing up and the older artists were getting ready. The temporary exhibits had already been taken down, and the younger artists were getting ready to either head home or change for the gallery's new exhibit's unveiling. I already knew what it looked like, but was excited to see people's reactions to it. The day had changed to night and it was time for me to change. The employee room in the back of the gallery had housed my dress during the day. As I reflected on the day my bag sat quietly next to me while my dress continued to rest on the hanger. The bathroom I was in was large and modern. The dark counters held stainless steel sinks and fancy trays of decorative flowers. I had taken these sights in a few moments earlier. Currently I was procrastinating as I stared at my reflection. She stared back at me. My stare eventually coerced me into changing for the event. After I took off my outer layers I slipped the dress over my head. The dress felt strange as it touched my skin, the midnight blue silky material that made up the dress seemed to flow over my body. It was a moderate v neck halter dress. I fingered the ties before attempting to tie them, while my hair was still out the way, now in a fancier type of bun I was still feeling hesitant. However, I decided to make an attempt. Shortly after my valiant struggle the ties formed a bow at the nape of my neck; I turned to check the status of the bow. It was relatively perfect, with the long ties filling up the empty spot on my back. Empty because the back of the dress draped daringly low, or at least daring for me. It ended mid back in a v that partially mirrored the one around my neck. After sating my need to check the bow I picked up the first piece of my jewelry. It was a simple silver spiral with a sapphire at its center. The chain that held the spiral seemed to be as thin and delicate as spider web, yet I knew it was rather strong. My earrings were blue tear drops made of the same precious stone found in my necklace. A set of thin silver bracelets, bracelets as delicate as the chain around my neck, and a sapphire ring completed my jewelry. The dress flowed around me, like a blue lake, as I stepped back from the mirror. I cocked my head to one side, like a curious bird, debating whether or not I had enough feminine life skill to apply makeup. All of the necessary tools lay dormant in my bag, thanks to my friend, who had been the one to pick out everything. A shrug welled up and expressed itself via my shoulders. Somewhat hesitantly I reached in the bag and started to lay out the various needed items. They rested on the counter silently mocking my lack of skill. A twisted frown crossed my face, but now that they were out on the counter there was no going back. With a new sense of courage I continued on. The next fifteen minutes were more complicated than necessary, but resulted in something halfway decent. Or at least I thought it was halfway decent. I backed away from the mirror. With the makeup my friend had picked out for me now on my face, I looked like something out of a dream. I was shocked at the transformation. I thought I looked beautiful. That strange feeling festered within me as I stared down my reflection, secretly daring it to change, or maybe just waiting for reality to set back in. When neither thing actually occurred I gave in and put my things away. I walked out of the bathroom, leaving my bag on the chair with my old clothes. Taking a deep breath to steady myself after the long ordeal of getting dressed, I let my thoughts stew some more on the final result. Finally I felt calm enough to leave the room. As I left my long skirt trailed behind me, small waves moved through it with each

As soon as I got to the door of the gallery, I was caught up in the whirlwind of the opening. I was introduced, the ribbon was cut, and people rushed at me wanting to become instantly familiar. An hour in eternity, which truly lasted only about fifteen minutes, passed by, shortly thereafter people settled down enough to forget about me and focus on my art. Standing in the main opening I surveyed the gallery. Though I had seen it before my mind rushed to take in all of the details. It was long and somewhat narrow, the open space in the middle, now crowded with people, allowed the room to still maintain its open feeling. I took a few steps forward. My dark dress flowed across the gallery's floor. The floor was made of light wood; it looked lighter with my dress against it. My head turned towards the walls. The walls were paneled with rust colored planks down the middle. The planks ran parallel with the floor. My hand touched the rust colored panels; dull studs connected them to the wall. The rest of the wall was a soft gray, with the occasional fleck of something darker. Individual lights specifically picked out for my pictures added a soft glow, while very faint strains of classical music echoed ghost like through the room. The large window at the end of the gallery showed the night sky and pouring rain. Momentarily distracted I watched the storm through it. After removing my hand from the wall I made my way to the window, stopped by curious people here and there. Finally, when I got to the window I leaned against it, looking out at the storm, the outline of the clouds was illuminated by the occasional flashes of lightening. On the way there I had searched for a familiar face and had failed to find it. While the storm continued to wage war against the earth, I waited for him to come.

Rain fell in cascading torrents. It danced down his windshield while his windshield wipers continued to try, though somewhat futilely, to keep the rain off. Time continued to tick by while the white roses sat in austere silence on the seat next to him. The weather outside seemed to be teaming up with time to make fate work against him. The World Myth Gallery opening had been set for seven. It was now eight. The ever increasing passion behind the rain's dance made it hard to see the road in front of him. His lights did little to pierce the wall of water streaming down out of the dark sky. He slowed down despite being late, for his tires had slipped far too many times in the last half an hour. Even now the rubber holding his car against the road struggled to maintain its grip. Impatience attacked him, but he remained at the lower speed. A sigh of frustration slipped out of his mouth as the condition of the road floated around in the back of his mind. The road was a narrow two lane, narrow because one side had sheer rock next to it and the other side, though protected by a guardrail, was right next to a steep inclining drop. The road ahead was flooded by pools of water. Flashes of light from the storm above kept flashing in his line of vision. He blinked as little dots of light flowed in and out of his sight. Despite the lack of time, his speedometer continued to creep towards lower and lower numbers. The creeping red hand silently accused him of his delayed progress. Despite the silent accusation facing him he slowly continued, though he feared he would not make it. Headlights reflected of off the watery downfall, coming in fragments to his rear view mirror. His mind, distracted by thoughts of being late suddenly snapped to attention as reality forcefully set in. A large SUV came flying out from the sheets of rain covering the sky; it was spinning, careening out of control. The driver of the SUV was oblivious to him as he continued speeding down the wet road. Time slowed down as the impact took place. The SUV's headlights shattered leaving the glass bulbs to fend for themselves in the open damp air. Black paint chips went flying. They joined the rain in its pummeling dance, they seemed to float in the air until they, like the rain got thrown against the earth. Looks of fear and shock slowly overcame both drivers' faces as the realization of what was going to happen occurred to both of them. His car had been slammed into the railing right where the road started to curve. The metal railing screamed in protest as it slowly gave way to the superior force of the brutal car accident. Bit by bit the metal cracked, weakening little by little. Both drivers slammed on their brakes, the metal screeched and the tires spun as they fought for control. The rain continued to fall, oblivious to their valiant struggle. Despite all of their efforts it was too late. With one final scream of protest the guard rail gave way completely and his car fell, leaving the SUV teetering on the edge, its driver sitting in shock induced silence. The sloping rocks below his car had no mercy for him. His car bounced off of the sheer cliff, knocking large chunks of the rock face off. As he continued to fall small boulders fell with him, until they all fell on the uncaring road below. His car had flipped over many times in the process of falling and now landed with a sickening crunch of metal. Moments before he landed against the pavement, a picture flashed into his mind. The last thing he thought of before he hit the ground was her face, her sad, but beautiful face.

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain shot through my heart. I flinched slightly at the pain as my pupils furiously dilated as lightning flashed before them. I turned away from the storm, ignoring the violent connotations it carried. I was once again looking for his face.

The roses now rested on the shattered windshield. Bits of glass dotted the area around them, while large cracks and breaks creased the once whole glass pane beneath their green leafy stems. Their once innocent petals were being stained. Slowly they turned red as blood dripped down on them. Rain poured in impervious to the accident it had witnessed. The watered down blood flowed out onto the slick roadway, carrying a single rose petal with it.

Chapter 9

Time ticked on leaving the moment my heart hurt behind in its intangible dust. I had not moved from my spot, though my eyes had returned to storm, locking on it as time flowed around me. Oblivious to my surroundings it took a while for me to notice that people were starting to leave. I turned my gaze to watch them. I heard the last few comments here and there. The words left their lips, but rang hollowly in the near empty room, until they reached my ears as meaningless sounds. Closing time drew dangerously close and my heart grew heavier as the last people left. My heart turned into an iron lump, weighing painfully in my chest, when the lights had been turned off and the doors had been closed and locked. Finally when it was all over and I was able to retrieve my cell phone, I called him. In that moment I needed to hear his voice. I needed to hear him talk tome. With the phone pressed tightly against my ear I listened. After one ring his message started to play, telling me his phone was off. He always turned his phone off when he was in meetings. As his voice played back his message my heart lifted slightly. Minutes after the call I sat in my car, I along with my fancy dress were soaked through and through. I called him again, hoping to hear more than a simple recording of his voice. My cold, numb hands rested on the steering wheel, while the phone sat on the seat next to me. His voice played through the speaker. It was his usual, familiar message. I had failed to reach him. With a sigh, I turned the car on. My heart continued to ache as I put my seat belt on. The pain in my chest seemed to settle deeper within me as I started to back out of the parking lot. As I drove home my only company was the silent car, and the soft sound of the rain as it drummed against my car. Loneliness settled at my core, while lighting caused new shadows to forge themselves on the road ahead.

As I lay in bed that night his words started to haunt me. First they were like an unwanted whisper sneaking in through the cracks in the walls, but soon they grew louder, like a rude houseguest. They circled around my head, tickling my ears over and over again until they reached my brain. They lodged there, firmly planted against my mind. I hugged his pillow tighter, his familiar, comforting smell radiated out from it. His scent flooded my nose. I breathed it in, tasting it on my lips and tongue. I let it linger there for a moment, while his words rose unwanted in my mind. "It'll be okay, because you're strong like that." The words seemed to leak out of my head and into the room, though they still seemed to bounce against my skull, vibrating back and forth rubbing my mind raw. The words hit the walls of the room and rebounded back at me, haunting me like the faint screaming of a banshee in the night. The brooding darkness seemed to close in around me. Burying my head further against the pillow and under the blankets I prayed for morning to come, and I prayed for him to return to me.

Morning light peered into my room. It mocked me with is bleak gray tones. I had wanted sunshine, I had hoped to see the blazing, beautiful face of the sun, but it remained elusive. Slowly and somewhat painfully I left my bed, pulling on clothes, unconscious of what I was putting on. I slid the jeans up over my hips, buttoning them. The t-shirt I pulled on strained against my chest, looking down I saw I had grabbed one of his shirts. I revealed in its feeling. Moments ticked by before I finally decided to keep wearing it. Worries about ruining the shirt attacked the back of my mind, but I succeeded in pushing them back, knowing he wouldn't mind. Somewhere in the distance the doorbell rang.

The doorbell rang once again; the sound flowed around the room, leaving visible strains of music in the air around me. I traversed down the hallway, my bare feet touching the ultramarine carpets. Pictures of black and white water falls watched me as I continued on. The door bell rang two more times, rapidly, right in a row. The sound seemed to grow insistent, more demanding, and more hurried. I picked up the pace. My thoughts ran around in confused circles unsure of why he didn't just come in the front door or the garage if he forgot his key. Silence filled the void left by the sound as I stopped outside the door. With a hesitant hand I grabbed the handle. With a smooth, but slow motion I unlocked the door and opened it. The two police officers were halfway to their squad car when they realized I had finally answered the door. They turned to me, silent and still, their eyes taking in my appearance. I knew what they were seeing. They were seeing a woman with bags under her eyes, and the color of someone sleep deprived. They were seeing a woman with wild hair, and hopeful eyes, a woman in too tight a shirt and baggy jeans that rested on her hips. They were seeing a woman who was waiting. Silently they walked up to me. I acknowledged their presence with a silent, hopeful half smile. The younger of the two, the one with short brown hair and gray eyes shook his head slightly, his face downcast. The older of the two looked directly at me, his blond hair was shaggy, and partially covered his strange light eyes. His mouth opened and words came out, but I couldn't understand them. His words seemed to come out slurred, almost as if they were trapped inside invisible word bubbles. They looked expectantly at me and all I could do was focus on the rain dripping off their hats and off the roof. It was gray outside and the rain continued to fall, but it had lightened up slightly, though as their words continued my earlier hope of sunshine faded. Later on my hope in general faded as I finally understood each word that left their mouths.

Epilogue

Months later I contemplated what he had said. The words had come from a book he had written. They were his words, but at the same time they weren't. It was as if they belonged to some one else, but then again at the same time to him. It was almost as if they belonged to his faded ghost. As the words floated through my thoughts I looked out at the gray mist forming over the water, then at the gray light filtering in through all of the windows. I smiled, though it was still a shadow of its former self. It felt like it was going to be...The words finally managed to escape my lips. "It's just going to be one of those days."

© Caroline Rutz, 2008