A Ghost Story ★★★★★

98

He looked out the window. She was all finished packing, except for a couple of personal things. He couldn't reach her. His touch flew into the wind. His embrace collapsed into the fabric of her clothes. But he never stopped watching. The pane of the window obscured the U-Haul, but he could tell it was already full. It was time for her to go.

She roamed around the empty space for a little while. Left a note in a crevice of the framework. Just a reminder of the life once inhabiting its texture. All the memories were already fading. He couldn't stop it. And above all else, her precious piece of paper was just too far buried for his hands to grasp.

Maybe one day, I'll uncover it. I'll know what it is. Surely it's about me. Who else would it be for? I just wish she wasn't leaving. I could help her unpack and everything. I'm not gone. I'm still here. Hey...wait. Please. Don't make me say goodbye again.

The space was empty, then. Truly, achingly desolate. He is now a prisoner in a home not his own. Well, it was, at one point in history. But, what a length of time ago that was. Other people live here now. He didn't like it at first, but he grows to understand. Holidays are celebrated, parties are thrown, cosmic mysteries are discussed, days flow by. A silent specter observes as lives become a life - the present buried, sold, abandoned, destroyed. Only when it all is unrecognizable is it time to go.

But that time is only meaningful when my fingers grasp that tiny, folded piece of history and open its pages. Every moment of mine is a story which others have already had and will continue to have: A crackling cumulative fireplace, never ceasing, rising towards boundaries of air and space, earth and stars. Doesn't mean I can't cherish it, though. And I have. And I will. For as long as I live.

Love is shared, but it is still our own.

SilentDawn liked this review