It is grey outside and as if knowing how she feels, rain pours down in buckets. She pulls her knees close and wraps her arms around them, trying to stop the torturous thoughts that run through her mind. Empty tears cascade down her cheeks matching the unstoppable rain. Suddenly she stands and drags her feet to her drab bedroom.
Her room consists of a simple queen bed with a navy blue down comforter set on a wire frame bed. The walls are painted a neutral color and above her bed hang three now blank picture frames. Sheer curtains frame the one and only window in the room and a black closet shrunk faces across from her bed. A nightstand sits on either side of the bed. On the right nightstand sits a crystal vase with a bouquet of red tulips long gone dead. On the left nightstand there is a little lamp with a cream colored shade and if you were to look in that nightstand’s drawer you’d find an assorted bunch of unfinished drawings from the past. The only bright color in the room is a couple of aqua blue pillows thrown on her bed in no particular hurry.
She takes her time slipping a charcoal sweater over her head. She no longer has anything to look forward to. Sliding her fingers along the walls, she makes her way to the white, plain kitchen. The cabinets are all nearly empty along with her fridge and drawers. Once bright wallpaper hangs over the used to be white walls.
Silently and without a thought she prepares a cup of tea. She patiently waits for the water to boil and once it does she carelessly pours it into a black mug. A few times the hot water splashes on her pale fingers, but without a cry of pain or even a wince she carries on.
She does not feel.
She finds a chi tea bag and drops it into her mug with a splatter. No sugar. No milk. Slumping over to the tiny two chaired table, her tea sloshes over the cup’s edge. She ignores this. She sets her tea on the chipped, oak wooden table with a clatter and falls into a chair. She brings the cup to her lips, the scorching tasteless tea reaching her lips and dripping down her throat.
She does not taste.
She sets it down far from her after taking nothing but a small sip. With her elbows on the table she lets her head drop into her hands. Her long, black hair curtains her face, protecting her from unwanted memories. They come anyways. She lets out a suppressed sigh and glances out the window yet again for the millionth time that day. It still rains. Water seeps through a crack in the grimy window. Drip, Drip, Drip. She watches each and every drop fall to the window sill. She scoots her chair back and reenters the shabby living room.
Nothing hangs on the peeling walls. No pictures of family or friends are in sight. She collapses on a dark brown couch, her eyes finding a tear in its worn cloth. She stares at it even though she does not find anything interesting of it. It’s just there.
She does not live.
The room is cold. She shivers but does not realize. A small water leak hangs in the middle of the room and forms a now large puddle on the carpet. Numerous water stains border the ceiling and walls. An outdated phone sits on a three and half legged table at one end of the couch. Unheard messages blink on the receiver. A now broken, aged television rests on the floor across from the couch. No longer is there anything to keep in touch with the outside world.
Seconds tick. Minutes pass. Hours go by. Still she lays there, expressionless. The smell of wet pine wafts in the room from underneath the remains of the broken door. It stealthily moves across the sodden floor. Its rich smell fills the room. Her attention is pulled away with the familiar scent and is pulled to the little piano sitting all alone in the middle of the sun room. Something in the common aroma is awakening her sleeping senses.
She slowly sits up. Her sock free feet touch the damp carpet. She slips away into the well lit room. Her little feet meet with the unsettling cold wooden floor. Her fingers graze across the yellowing untouched piano keys. She assembles on the weakening piano bench and gently places her long fingers on the unkempt keys. She begins to play a once beautiful song but now just one of sorrow. His familiar face invades her mindless thoughts. With a clang she abruptly stands pushing herself away from the gloomy stricken memory. Her heart aches with grief. She turns away. It’s too much. She runs and reaching the front door, flings open the torn screen door.
Then, just for a moment, she hesitates on the porch, unsure of herself, but then continues only to trip on a loose wooden board. She tumbles down and lands on her side in the mud. She struggles to get up only to fall after each failed attempt. Finally she just lies there, crying pain filled tears. Her filthy fingers reach into her soaking wet, dirty pants pocket. She pulls out a faded forgotten photo. The only photo she now owns.
It’s her and she’s smiling in pure happiness and her hazel eyed gaze back then still gentle and joyful. Her eyes travel to the man standing next to her. His blue eyes are smiling at the camera. She stares at his ruffled, never cooperating hair and his goofy grin she always liked to try and keep on his face. She tries to sniffle back a cry and does not succeed. Her broken heart aches for him. She wants to be with him.
Once again she attempts to get up, this time with a new found strength. She will reach him.
She succeeds and starts on her way, having a terribly difficult time trudging through the mud but still she walks. It’s hard to see through the thick fall of rain but she manages to her best ability. Her hair clings to her face and her soaked clothes hug her fragile frame. Branches scratch at her face and brush and horned plants cut deep into her bare feet. Still she carries herself on. She walks with a purpose now. To be with him is all she wants.
Finally, she enters a solemn clearing. Small grey mounds are scattered here and there. No one else is there but her. She silently and gravely crosses the almost soundless place. She knows where to go. She continues straight on and when she’s almost nearing the last row of grey stones, she turns left, heading for the very end of the row.
She weakly kneels in front of him. She knows he doesn’t want to see her like this. In fact, she knows he did not ever want to see her like this. Only he never knew him leaving her would take such this large a toll. She tries to tell him its okay but she slouches in defeat. Nature is taking its toll on her again. There is no hiding the dull look her eyes have received and the tiredness beneath her eyes. She now wears a solemn look mixed with one of misery, grief, and loneliness.
She collapses on the green wet ground, clutching the recollection. Her large hazel green eyes stare off into the ashen heavens above. The sky gradually grows darker as she lies there. Raindrops still fall only now are just a small slight drizzle. They land against her pastel skin. She silently listens to the beginning of the night’s well known soft melody. The smell of wet pine fills the air. It wades between each tree and every leaf. A heavy calmness hangs in the air.
For the first time in a long time she smiles. Without any explanation she knows everything is going to be just fine. Her thoughts are confirmed when she sees her lover’s hand reach down and take hers in his. He guides her with him to the light, the unspoken light that is only seen in undying dreams. Slowly and softly, she slips away from our world and into the next.