The rickety home
He would steal a glance at her, now and then, but she had gone completely silent two days ago. The windows were pulled down and her elbows rested on the frame, her head on her arms, eyes gazing out into the landscape rushing by. It had been a few hours … (read more)
He would steal a glance at her, now and then, but she had gone completely silent two days ago. The windows were pulled down and her elbows rested on the frame, her head on her arms, eyes gazing out into the landscape rushing by. It had been a few hours since he got the bright idea of playing her song, thinking it might do the trick. So Still Corners's The Trip was playing on repeat and they both waited.
"You want to talk about it?" He asked but knew that it would amount to nothing... The dozens of years they spent together had taught him that there was no alternative to waiting it out. This condition always came upon her out of the blue, and he knew well that this was a battle she needed to fight every so often. And no matter how often they had both gone through this he could never get over the feeling of helplessness. It tore at him something fierce. So he waited, doing his best to respect her silence.
Their rickety home cruised along abandoned roads, lost among fields of summer flowers. They hadn't come across another car, or another soul for that matter, since they left in the morning. The sky seemed to melt into the horizon, white clouds melding with white petals. The surrounding vegetation seemed to draw them in, the most gracious host beckoning its guests, tempting them with a palette of colors none other could rival.
They had come upon a rise, close to the beach, and he decided it would do for the night; though something told him that the decision had been made for them both. Something peculiar had pulled them to this place, he felt it.
An unspoken decision had led them to sleep outside. The clear night sky proved to be a spectacle he was ill-equipped for. The more he looked at it the more he lost touch with himself. The stars seemed to shift every time the waves brushed against the beach and reality morphed into a dreamscape as his exhaustion finally won over and he fell asleep.
He awoke to the sound of a light footfall. His first instinct was to check the thin sleeping bag next to him but it was empty. Just as he was about to call out he saw her approach from further down the beach.
She sat down next to him and said "The water's pretty warm."
Sitting up to rest on his elbows, he chuckled and asked "Is it now?"
They shared a laugh, warm and hearty, and then she leaned in to kiss him on the forehead and say "Thank you for waiting." He grinned and nodded. All was well again.
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