Paintings
He stood there, his presence hovering just in her vision and yet just out of reach. To really look she would have to put some effort into it, and in the past she most likely would have. But now, now she would not. She paid attention instead to the screen in front of her, it was a simple game, she had played it many times in the past. Fit the pieces together, match them, mold them, break them.
He continued to just stand here, the shadows of the unlit hallway covering him. As always he refused to walk out of them, he would not come into her space. She couldn’t help but smile lightly, an old game that connected the two of them, that weird connection she would never be able to stop seeing. But time had worn it, his lack of interest as strained it. So when he finally asked his question, she didn’t know whether to laugh bitterly or cry.
“Where is the love?”
At first she didn’t respond, she just continued to flick the buttons absently. She left him waiting, hanging, not knowing what was going to happen. She wanted him to sweat, to fear, to feel. Then, when she felt it, the fluttering that strayed into his presence she answered.
“It never left, always there, but it is a like a painting left in the light for too long. When it was fresh it was full of vivid colour, new shapes and images that covered each sense with wonder. But I put it on display, and left it in the light, waiting for someone to come and see what I saw, that person never came.”
He shifted his weight seeming confused. She knew that not everything she said made sense to him, but this was the only way she could say it, it was the only way she knew how to. Riddles and puzzles, he wasn’t stupid, maybe a bit slow though.
“The painting has faded, it is only a memory of what it once was. You can’t see what it was meant to be anymore, but once in a while with the right angle and light, I can remember, I feel it again.”
It was at that moment she stopped playing and looked at him directly, his face was covered in the shadow of his own thoughts, the light of her words melded with him as he processed what she was saying.
“I can’t make it go away, it is a memory that will always be there in my mind. For that I am sorry, sorry what it has done to things, but what can I say you complicate things just as much as I do.”
He didn't say anything, but in that moment she saw him, the real him that lay beneath layers of masks and faces, and her memories stirred within her. In that moment they were both open and exposed to each other, both powerful and weak at the same time, ever a match for one another. She saw the dark and the light, the desire to run and the longing to stay. Then she blinked, and the moment passed.
He continued to stand still, part of himself in her space, the other out, too much time had passed, the painting would never be as it was.
He continued to just stand here, the shadows of the unlit hallway covering him. As always he refused to walk out of them, he would not come into her space. She couldn’t help but smile lightly, an old game that connected the two of them, that weird connection she would never be able to stop seeing. But time had worn it, his lack of interest as strained it. So when he finally asked his question, she didn’t know whether to laugh bitterly or cry.
“Where is the love?”
At first she didn’t respond, she just continued to flick the buttons absently. She left him waiting, hanging, not knowing what was going to happen. She wanted him to sweat, to fear, to feel. Then, when she felt it, the fluttering that strayed into his presence she answered.
“It never left, always there, but it is a like a painting left in the light for too long. When it was fresh it was full of vivid colour, new shapes and images that covered each sense with wonder. But I put it on display, and left it in the light, waiting for someone to come and see what I saw, that person never came.”
He shifted his weight seeming confused. She knew that not everything she said made sense to him, but this was the only way she could say it, it was the only way she knew how to. Riddles and puzzles, he wasn’t stupid, maybe a bit slow though.
“The painting has faded, it is only a memory of what it once was. You can’t see what it was meant to be anymore, but once in a while with the right angle and light, I can remember, I feel it again.”
It was at that moment she stopped playing and looked at him directly, his face was covered in the shadow of his own thoughts, the light of her words melded with him as he processed what she was saying.
“I can’t make it go away, it is a memory that will always be there in my mind. For that I am sorry, sorry what it has done to things, but what can I say you complicate things just as much as I do.”
He didn't say anything, but in that moment she saw him, the real him that lay beneath layers of masks and faces, and her memories stirred within her. In that moment they were both open and exposed to each other, both powerful and weak at the same time, ever a match for one another. She saw the dark and the light, the desire to run and the longing to stay. Then she blinked, and the moment passed.
He continued to stand still, part of himself in her space, the other out, too much time had passed, the painting would never be as it was.