I watch her.
I ache.
She shudders.
“I’m still here,” I whisper, faintly.
She closes her eyes.
“I’m still here,” my whisper fills her ears, and she shakes her head, trying to ignore, escape.
I watch her:
At the park
In her car
Running errands
Visiting with friends.
I ache.
She shudders.
“I’m still here,” I whisper again.
I close my eyes.
I am alone, floating weightless, aimless, boundless.
My ears flush with warmth. I ache to feel her essence.
I open my eyes. Slowly, I focus. There are cars, a street, trees reaching from the concrete sidewalks, stretching to grab a ray of sunshine through the towering shadows of the cityscape.
My eyes are adjusting; I can’t seem to find definition in my surroundings. Everything is gray. The colors faded, muted, gone.
A young girl is standing on the corner, just feet away from me. She is watching me. But no one else seems to notice. I am just as faded and muted as the rest of the city.
The girl’s mother is holding her daughter’s hand and a cell phone in the other, chatting away about a pair of shoes she saw in a store window display earlier that day.
I shudder.
My gaze goes back to the little girl, curiously watching my every move. I manage to smile, albeit weakly , but a kind gesture none the less. Her dimpled grin assures me that she is, in fact, watching me.
Her attention fills me again. I feel the girl’s warmth envelop me. I yearn for more. I start towards her. Every cell is tingling now. The girl continues to smile, and has pulled her hand from her mother’s grip. Her mother is too caught up in mindless chatter to notice. I kneel down on the sidewalk in front of her. My knees ache against the cool, rough concrete. I focus on the warmth from this little girl, this new little soul in front of me.
::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: :::
Another little bit of fiction that I’ve being writing on & off for a year now. It came to mind when I read the Trifecta challenge for Week 30 – New. Thanks for stopping by to read – be sure to go check out all the other writer’s entering this week!
