Table for One

table for seven

. . .

grass

02.20.2021

. . .

He leaned over and pushed their eyelids shut.

To make it look like they're just sleeping, maybe.

Why do people pretend that death, is sleep?

She sighed and pressed her palms to her face.

It's not. It isn't.

I should have known.

The screams at night, the stifled sobs in the pillow.

They weren't exactly the most subtle person ever, yet she had so much ignorance.

He squeezed their hand, tighter and tighter, as if their blood would suddenly revive from its dormant state and circulate.

As if they'd wake up and smile, as if nothing had happened.

Imagination.

Both a blessing and a curse.

Yes, it's great that you can elaborate theories and dream and whatnot, but sometimes your imagination blinds you.

And your imagination takes over reality.

You eat the grass without noticing the cliff.

You stand in the sun without feeling the burn.

She shook her head slightly, tears unconsciously pricking her eyes, as she signaled for him to stop.

Her eyes met his, vulnerable and glassy.

They're gone.

I know.

Then why-

I don't know.

She nodded understandingly.

You know that-

I know.

Just making sure.

He smiled a little bit, just the corners of his lips barely twitching.

The silence deepened, and the air grew darker.

She took his hand in hers and began leading him from the room.

He thrashed violently as he was dragged away from them.

He wanted to be by them, eyes open or not.

It was just their presence.

Like the way he used to play with legos when he was younger, and as he got older he didn't anymore.

But when anyone tried to take them down from the shelf, or when the dog broke one of the sets, it was as if a piece of him was breaking.

The fact that they were there was comforting.

It didn't matter if he didn't play with them anymore, or that their heart didn't beat anymore and their lungs no longer converted oxygen into carbon dioxide.

She tried to get him to calm down.

You'll be alright.

How was he to be, if she was taking him away from the center of his existence?

He knew he relied on them too much.

They all did, it was just the long-term effects of a... unique upbringing, to say the least.

His limbs flailing, screams of desperation piercing the air, face wet with tears.

And then he wasn't.