Random Stories

Old Friend

He was long gone, but I could feel his presence close by. Little things showed he was still here, from little notes to warmth in the empty area next to me. Even after years, he still worries. I some times sit at the our deserted table and talk as if he never disappeared from my reality. I still set up two servings and talk to where he once was. No meal is without rain anymore. A storm wrecks my emotions, pulling me into a endless dance of sorrow waltzes. His voice still lingers in my mental landscape, cutting into the waltz from time to time and holding me, comforting me. I have yet to take down his picture and put his things in boxes. His camera lays on the table where he last left it, his clothes still neatly folded and stored away. Everyone else tell me it's time to walk away, to let the past take it leave and dance with the future.

I look at the pictures on the wall and give a sad smile, whispering bye. Slowly, I take the photos down, wrap them up and store them in a box. Tidying each room, I remove visual reminders. Almost all of the rooms were clean after a few hours, though I took most of his belongings and stored them, I left his camera on my desk. Along with the camera, was his journal. I would see him write something in there for time to time, normally around the time we go sleep. He'd lay down next to me and write as I fell asleep. I hold onto his journal and head to his study. Slowly opening the door, light invades the dark room. Flipping on the light, I walk inside and look around. Books, papers, and photographs are shattered all over the study. They were in the chairs, desk and floor while on the shelf was photos of me and several cameras.

To be continued...