From the Archives
A Moment Too Soon
He was done. He was finished. It was time to leave.
Vordak Gef took a last look around the cheap, furnished apartment and could not think of a single happy memory had there. He'd thought this place, this time ... that things would have been different. They'd almost been better but ended up worse.
With the suicide of her husband, the Police had closed Annie's case. "What was the point?" they'd said ... it had either been an accident or foul play and they had nothing.
Nothing to go on. No reason to stay on. Time get on. Time to get away.
Even the odd cash sale of her millinery store to that couple just prior to her disappearance had creased no official brow. It was legal. It was documented. It was done. And then they had disappeared too.
The old lady who ran the store was as closed-mouthed as a Saturday night sinner at Sunday morning Mass. "Annie is gone," was all she would say. As to the others, "They've gone away."
No cause. No clues. No nothing for him.
Probate had been swift and sure: few possessions, small accounts, no claims ... the gavel banged and Daddy Warbucks got richer by relative default.
Gef left his building without looking back -- a single valise in hand. He'd a final stop at the newspaper yet and a final column to write. There'd be no awkward good-byes to make; 'twas just another point in time, just another hollow mistake.
The office was cluttered and small, that's all. But the walls seemed closer than usual as he sat down to compose. Tomorrow a new hack would warm the chair, but for today it was his.
The in-basket of letters for advice was disregarded for he had has own subject in mind. To anyone passing by the doorway, the click of typewriter keys came as steady as a snaredrum's cadence.
To love and to lose is nothing any would choose and yet into each life does the unrequited come. Just a simple moment's crush, that friendship's first blush, can envelop like no other thing. From the look in her eye or the sound of his sigh, the heart goes where the angel knows not to tread. I tell you my friend, if the chance comes again, seek it out and never let it go.
Vordak stood up, gathered his things and left without a word to anyone. He paused on the way out at the office mail cubbies. Two envelopes were to be there for him ... his pay in one and hopefully a reference in the other. It made no matter. He stuffed both unlooked at in his jacket and departed.
Copyright 2002 by Vordak Gef
He was done. He was finished. It was time to leave.
Vordak Gef took a last look around the cheap, furnished apartment and could not think of a single happy memory had there. He'd thought this place, this time ... that things would have been different. They'd almost been better but ended up worse.
With the suicide of her husband, the Police had closed Annie's case. "What was the point?" they'd said ... it had either been an accident or foul play and they had nothing.
Nothing to go on. No reason to stay on. Time get on. Time to get away.
Even the odd cash sale of her millinery store to that couple just prior to her disappearance had creased no official brow. It was legal. It was documented. It was done. And then they had disappeared too.
The old lady who ran the store was as closed-mouthed as a Saturday night sinner at Sunday morning Mass. "Annie is gone," was all she would say. As to the others, "They've gone away."
No cause. No clues. No nothing for him.
Probate had been swift and sure: few possessions, small accounts, no claims ... the gavel banged and Daddy Warbucks got richer by relative default.
Gef left his building without looking back -- a single valise in hand. He'd a final stop at the newspaper yet and a final column to write. There'd be no awkward good-byes to make; 'twas just another point in time, just another hollow mistake.
The office was cluttered and small, that's all. But the walls seemed closer than usual as he sat down to compose. Tomorrow a new hack would warm the chair, but for today it was his.
The in-basket of letters for advice was disregarded for he had has own subject in mind. To anyone passing by the doorway, the click of typewriter keys came as steady as a snaredrum's cadence.
To love and to lose is nothing any would choose and yet into each life does the unrequited come. Just a simple moment's crush, that friendship's first blush, can envelop like no other thing. From the look in her eye or the sound of his sigh, the heart goes where the angel knows not to tread. I tell you my friend, if the chance comes again, seek it out and never let it go.
Vordak stood up, gathered his things and left without a word to anyone. He paused on the way out at the office mail cubbies. Two envelopes were to be there for him ... his pay in one and hopefully a reference in the other. It made no matter. He stuffed both unlooked at in his jacket and departed.
Copyright 2002 by Vordak Gef