The room is black for both of you.
A flash of blue and she’s lying there beside you.
Your eyes flicker to the left as the right corner of your mouth edges upwards. Within the same instant you’ve regained composure. Problem solved. You know she didn’t notice. She can’t see you yet.
The flashes of colour intersperse with the gray. You’re mingling in technicolour for moments at a time.
But the black is still choking her. Thoughts coiled tightly in her mind, pressing harder.
Thoughts about what made the other ones so special.
And why she can’t let go.
She’s still screaming silently into her pillow. Scratching at the cloak of darkness. Enveloped.
You’re a shadow that passes. A mere movement in the corner of her eye.
It’s been a long time now.
Since she remembered the reasons for her tears
She wants to let go now.
Knows that she won’t.
Because even though she can’t see you
She still remembers the brightness of the room
The day she made it light for you.
Thank you for taking the time to read this piece. I’d really love some feedback on what people think of my work, my thoughts. What does the story mean to you? Am I eliciting any feelings, thoughts or memories? Your comments are very much appreciated.