628 (3)

Photo by Daan Stevens on Unsplash

“It’s okay. It is. Okay?”

Peering behind curtains, searching for a face. I have 5 minutes. Tick tock tick tock. A lungful of intoxicating smell.

I’ve known this face for longer than I can remember. He’s half asleep. I could just stand here, forever. I touch his shoulder, not knowing if he would respond to it. If he would feel it. He opens his eyes and turns to me. A chill runs down the spine like a sharp, cleaving sword.

I see a hint of a smile. The quiet face seems relieved of something. His eyes are lit up like little lamps in the night. He says that I shouldn’t have gone through the trouble. That he was okay. Then, it all fades to the background.. The foggy mask, the beeping monitors, the smell of fresh blood. I mumble a few words only he can understand.

I slowly pull myself away, walking back to the familiar faces; taking the light of his eyes with me. I will be back, each day. Every day.

The tense atmosphere outside seeps into the skin, like water into a cracked wall. Someone waits for me. We exchange a look, and we weep in silent knowing. The tears sting, like dripping acid. Sitting there, frozen, like timeless statues, we stare at the waves, thrashing back and forth. Back and forth.

It is a night of disbelief and ruthless shivers. Dark and inescapable.

*Related posts: Pieces (1), Grey Skies (2), Three walls and a curtain (4)

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