edit II
The sky had a surreal feel to it that day, like a painting or a cartoon. Oranges, yellows and deep blues danced together barely making way for a stubborn ray of sunlight to peak through the clouds. I was sitting and waiting; staring at an old radio on the woman’s desk and complaining about how terrible the sound was when that familiar drum beat I dreaded the most started playing. I kept running from it like Captain Hook running from the clock inside the alligator in “Peter Pan”. I hated remembering, and that listening to that song was like getting hit by a brick on my head at 100km/h.
It was a terribly corny song with the most annoyingly simple guitar chords. G, E, C, G again - even the guy on the subway could come up with something more creative. I taught Gaby how to play it on the guitar and she wouldn’t stop, all over the house from morning till mom sent her to bed. She was the smartest kid I’d ever met, just looking at her made me light up. Her dark eyes, blond hair, her big childish smile made me feel as if life was one big celebration. I had a really vivid picture of her in my mind, with my guitar which was twice her size and her little white fingers trying to grip the strings while she stuck her tongue out in concentration. I’d lose my patience, I’d tell her to get out, but then I’d just feel sorry for her and try and help. When he finally learnt it, the G was faint because she couldn’t reach all the notes, but it didn’t matter as her high pitched singing made up for it. She’d show her friends proudly over the phone, but I doubt they could figure out what she was playing.
The song reached the diminuendo and faded into silence as I felt the lady from the morgue’s fingers stabbing me back into reality. I hated remembering, but then again - memories were all I had left of her.
It was a terribly corny song with the most annoyingly simple guitar chords. G, E, C, G again - even the guy on the subway could come up with something more creative. I taught Gaby how to play it on the guitar and she wouldn’t stop, all over the house from morning till mom sent her to bed. She was the smartest kid I’d ever met, just looking at her made me light up. Her dark eyes, blond hair, her big childish smile made me feel as if life was one big celebration. I had a really vivid picture of her in my mind, with my guitar which was twice her size and her little white fingers trying to grip the strings while she stuck her tongue out in concentration. I’d lose my patience, I’d tell her to get out, but then I’d just feel sorry for her and try and help. When he finally learnt it, the G was faint because she couldn’t reach all the notes, but it didn’t matter as her high pitched singing made up for it. She’d show her friends proudly over the phone, but I doubt they could figure out what she was playing.
The song reached the diminuendo and faded into silence as I felt the lady from the morgue’s fingers stabbing me back into reality. I hated remembering, but then again - memories were all I had left of her.