Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Abyrne Mostyn has joined us again with a short romantic offering that suits the season well. Fate is a fickle mynx, and uses all means in conspiracy against us.
Only the weeping willow remained unchanged. The other colorful leaves, long since path pavers on the walk, betrayed the lateness of the season. Skylar was down there with the fallen rainbow along the curb feeling cast off and walked on. Shareese had been the cause. Weeks had become months since they had had anything more than an argument between them and still he could not bring himself to believe there was anyone else for him.
Love was like that. Loss was like that too. The difference was perspective and a healthy dose of reality, but he could not bring himself to choke down the bitter pill. She was off somewhere dancing with someone else, without a thought for him. He didn’t think so, he knew so having seen her in the pub window bedecked and bedazzled for the night. It was one more slap to the cheek he had already turned.
Walking around with his eyes on the ground, he missed what was in front of him, then and now. Realities past and future were lost to the drek that balanced on the sewer grate waiting to fall. He wasn’t alone. Megan missed missing the collision with Skylar just as surely as neither looked up to see the oncoming person in their path. Misery, company, cliché.
The mad tangle of limbs, the hasty apologies, and the recognition of a kindred soul were the matter of a moments glance up after the fall. The universe is a conspiracy. Sometimes only to show you what it is that you need to see when you refuse to look.
Silent seconds passed into minutes and more measurable units of time as they grappled with the notion that somehow words weren’t necessary yet to convey the gaping hole they were wearing under their clothes. Like running a wet finger around the rim of a crystal glass the monotone soliloquy of each played between them with the sounds of a concert orchestra to accompany the pain they wore on their faces. Before they realized the leaves no longer crunched beneath their feet, or that the November rain would wash away the somber death knell they had been building, the moment was broken and the tiniest piece of patch snuck from the edge of each hole toward their center with the laughter that followed their awkward ‘Hi’ as they uttered at them at the same time.
The universe is a conspiracy. Walk with your eyes open, stand in the rain, and see the future for what it can be. They did.
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