Monday, 8 June 2015
The Incredible Husk
It wasn't what was gone, but what was left behind; the photographs, the memories, the perfume by the sink. He would squeeze the perfume pump from time to time and think about their youth. He used to climb trees and yell her name triumphantly into the universe, as if his lips were destined to wrap themselves around her name and his arms were destined to wrap themselves around her torso. He used to run along the beach doing cartwheels and walk on his hands in an effort to impress. He'd done a lot of silly things just to see her smile. And he'd followed her everywhere she went, until she went somewhere he couldn't go. And now all that was left, was all that was left, of a life that once meant everything. And all that was left, wrapped around him like a hand upon his throat, as he rattled about with his rickety legs and arthritic hands, trapped between nothing and oblivion.