Shrouded by aroma, into that still, unscripted afternoon...I walked. Ghostly coffee, carressing my outer senses and making promises.
Head bowed, like a willow, the childhood road seemed strange to me.
Part of the present, should I take a step into the light, and part of the past that hovered between light and shadowof the flickering trees.
Others lived there now, behind those gates - in rooms that haunted my dreams and memories.
Strangers that trespassed upon night visions, as I had slept there, within those walls. Walls I would not leave. Still there.
Pictures drifted to the ground, like autumn leaves, spiralling away from me...
I was a character, leaving the stage, retiring from a need for explanation.
The sound of a plane stalled thought, overhead...I clung to it, the caffeinated aroma floated eastwards, recalling fragments of her words.
'When I go...you mustn't wait Stefan...'
How could she know she was soon to reach the boundaries of our thoughts?
Know the truth of our own theoretical scrabble.
She had been there for a moment, and vanished.
She had despised herself, used me as an aspirin, she confided, one afternoon. Peering at each other over over sized cups and saucers. Waiting for the plane, that would finally take her away.
She had held me so tight, I had stopped breathing. I felt like a dam ready to break.
Embarrassed by myself, my own emotions.
The breeze pushed gently, whispering memory. Her words '...masters of our own destinies...'
"Stefan?..."
I had been sat there for years; my whole life replaying the same film.
It wasn't an original story.
Emily's arms were now around me, seeking solace; patient of my seeming non-entity.
I sighed, dragging my eyes toward the light from the windows and breathing in the perfume I had bought her last Christmas. She smiled.
"Tea or coffee?"
"...Tea."
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