A Town with No Cheer: Part 5

by jamesmerolla

I feel the cold splash of air rush through the door, as Glenn steps out. In the quiet of his absence I listen to the old space heater ticking off the moments as it cools. I could feel the old building ache with every cold push of wind. I ache too.

These thoughts, drunk and wandering through my head, keep brushing against the walls. They knock loose flashes of life like old pictures.

I feel the warm touch of love, and the stabs of its pain. I am immediately dependent on both.

I long to hear a voice, any voice. I want to hear its thud against the knotted wood walls.

I want to hear laughter, howling laughter. I want to hear the painful laughter of fighting back tears.

I need to be touched, an assured touch. I want to know I belong with someone in whatever moment this is.

But, I must make do with the gasps of wind, and the aching moans of the old wood.

This is loneliness, a sensation so bitter to be alive, but in love with the sugary taste of fear.

Who will find me here next?  Will they love me? Will they care for me?

I am choked with dread, and an intruding sense of shame.

I am confused by life.

I am flirting with the nothingness again, and wondering what value my life will have.

If I turn myself on, blast through this leaky ceiling, into the clouds, and into the nothingness again, she will fall in love with him. I would prolong the pain of dying if for only one glimpse of them. Just to see in that one moment what I only felt pangs of in my lifetime.

Snowflakes will rest gently on their cheeks, melting into tears, as Glenn and Martha kiss sweetly above the hush of the new fallen snow and whatever follows.

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