Indestructible

Life is mostly froth and bubble. Time is the best healer. Light at the end of the tunnel ya da ya da. Shining pieces of in your face optimism. The utter triviality of it all. Inconsequential drivel.

It’s been over a year, she thought. It can’t be that tough. Already, one of those warm comforters that set in at a time when your stomach goes round and round like the washer, surfaced. The stained coffee cup making its almost circular mark.

See, not everything changes.

She drummed the table, played with the coaster, thought about some inconsequential conversation she just had with a stranger. Wondered about the time and why he had not yet made it. Not like him at all.

There was a new eating place that had come up bang opposite this one. Shiny and colourful. She looked at the traffic through the glass door, and the logo of the store yonder. It had been a year. Full one. More better than worse. More worse than better.

He then appeared, out of nowhere, infront of the door. Like the insane in a happy sweet bubble way that he was. That he was to her. Him. Her. Was.

One brief moment and she caught the laughter in his eyes. How grey looked lovely on him. How that moment was killing her. She wanted to disappear that very minute. Not have to be. The file, she thought, was magical stuff. Her fingers rummaged through some papers. He found her. So much for hide and seek with a blue file.

He sat himself down. Said something sweet. She could not bear looking at him. Allowed him to have a monologue. He knew. No cartographer to save her, no delusions that each of them could pocket. The chaos, the ache. The tears that poured within. The peace.

They walked out of there soon. Together. Apart. Chords cut. Belonging. Laced fingers. Him. Her. Was.