Left Behind

Part 2

A tall girl with hollow cheeks and grey tinged skin meets my eyes from beneath long, mascara-coated lashes. She watches my door fly past with a strange sort of fascination one would expect for someone half her age.

I feel my shoulders sink and my heart drop. It never gets easier. She places the toy in my outstretched hands with a sharp intake of breath. Turning back as her hands leave the object, I hug the bear to my chest and slide her teal leather-bound book next to the others. While some are 2,000 pages thick and others only 10, this one is slimmer than most. Still clutching the frozen bear beneath my arm, I hurriedly swipe my grimy sleeve across my face. Hunching over my desk as I place him with the rest, the cold air from the missing door whips my plait from side to side. I look at the tarnished gold plaque that adorns the bookshelf as I rest my scythe with the broom in the corner and hang my cloak on the hook on its gleaming point. I've never been one for formalities but that's just part of the job.

With a jolt of realisation, I flick the switchboard on to allow the trains to pass.

I regain my regular seat, staring into the eyes of the woman I once loved as she leans out of the window, warmth and light spilling into the gap she leaves behind. I slip from reality for a moment and permit myself a tentative wave. Her blank expression tells me all I'll ever need to know; to her, my office is but an empty box that accompanies the train tracks. The vivid yellow daffodils laid at the door and wooden cross sheltering behind the breeze blocks tell her all she needs to know.