A friend in need -- a dream (closed to Stildyne)
Sometimes the pain was a calm quiet thing, like an overcast day, making all joys bittersweet. He felt alone, despite the presence and support of his friends -- grief was a rocky valley not wide enough to admit the fulfilled and happy.
Other times, something would hit him, something he didn't expect: a smell, a sound, or finding a hairbrush with her hair in it, and the pain would become a hurricane, lightning, cyclones, floods, gales, tearing his well-being apart, crashing against him till he lost all sense of himself, conscious only of the pain.
When that happened, he'd see Hannah safe, see all his responsibilities tended to, and find an out of the way place to scream, cry, and beat his fists upon something unyielding. This night, he'd put Hannah to bed, and the very beauty of her sleeping there was a knife in his heart, and he'd left the rooms he shared with his friends, and gone to a closet in the basement to vent his feelings. After an hour, still feeling emotionally flayed, but exhausted and hoarse, he'd climbed up the stairs and fallen into bed. He fell asleep with the wearying consciousness that he would wake up again, that the respite of unconsciousness was only temporary.
Other times, something would hit him, something he didn't expect: a smell, a sound, or finding a hairbrush with her hair in it, and the pain would become a hurricane, lightning, cyclones, floods, gales, tearing his well-being apart, crashing against him till he lost all sense of himself, conscious only of the pain.
When that happened, he'd see Hannah safe, see all his responsibilities tended to, and find an out of the way place to scream, cry, and beat his fists upon something unyielding. This night, he'd put Hannah to bed, and the very beauty of her sleeping there was a knife in his heart, and he'd left the rooms he shared with his friends, and gone to a closet in the basement to vent his feelings. After an hour, still feeling emotionally flayed, but exhausted and hoarse, he'd climbed up the stairs and fallen into bed. He fell asleep with the wearying consciousness that he would wake up again, that the respite of unconsciousness was only temporary.