helium balloons

ss: Summer

Prompt: Summer made him think of pianos, falling leaves, and red cars. Why?

It was that time of year again. The days were growing longer, but to him it always seemed like the nights stretched onward as well. Perhaps it was because he would spend these nights awake. Reminiscing. Alive, but not all there. That yawning crater in his chest, however hollow, swarmed with so much emotion that he feared he would crack wide open through his center.

And when the inevitable happens, would he be able to stop the flow of everything that would pour out of him? All the memories, the good and bad in endless inundation, wracking his body with chaos. It was everything he wanted to see and everything he didn't want to see. His stupid, reckless, carelessness. Of blind passion and fumbles.

Yes, the memories were within grasp, hanging, tantalizing him, but with his slippery touch, he was afraid to hold on.

Summer was approaching. And again, his thoughts would blaze as brightly as the days around him. Yet, he never thought any season was so dark as that of summer.

Another night had past, and the sky was stained a brilliant orange as the sun peeked up from the East. The birds chirped in the air and then nostalgia slammed into him like she used to slam those piano keys.

Her fingers were as delicate as the songs of the birds, and yet what masterpieces were etched from the deliberate banging of the black and white. There are eighty-eight monochromatic keys, but with her, it was not so. Oh, how she would throw color around the air, little improvisations that meant the world. Tiny fragments of her, of them, tossed into the universe for all to see and marvel.

But every song ends, and all too soon, her melodic name failed to grace his lips.

The sun continued to push through the sky, testing his every reserve. And he could feel himself break all over again. Just like every summer.

He would remember the day they strolled through the park, with summer just ending. The way her eyes twinkled, gold, like the falling leaves around her. And he fell, too. With every moment, he plunged deeper and deeper into a love he could not dig himself out of. Even now, he lay entrenched. Lost forever. Falling.

Those blazing red leaves of passion shone like the summer sun. And it was in this blind heat that he kissed her. Once, then twice, and then again. And again.

So the sun shone through his window, streaking through his mind, turning him into a sightless man. For all he could see was in his mind's eye, and for a few moments, he was oblivious to the world.

He remembers her, with leaves tangled in her hair, little wisps of everything caught up in his world. And his thoughts were tangled then, and they are tangled now, and she is so strung up inside of him that these tangles have clumped into knots. His fingers are not as nimble as hers, and he can not undo them. She is trapped there forever, and he hates it and loves it. He's torn up and put together, pieces of him strewn across the town- most of these pieces residing in her- just as the leaves quivered and fell around her in a halo of gold.

Because she was gold, and summer was gold. And with all the golden light evaporating the air in his lungs, he could not help but feel as breathless as he had that day when the leaves fell.

Then the moment was gone, wisped away into the oblivion. It would come back; summer always comes back. She, on the other hand, was lost forever.

For she liked fast things, and she drove fast cars. Those months with her were fast, too. A blink and it was over. She could never stay still for long.

She would drive her fast, shiny car, and his heart would pick up pace as well. The car was fine machinery, but she was fine art. She was chaotic, and dangerous, and just a little bit reckless and how he loved her.

But she was never one to settle down, and those days passed faster than the summer holidays. She was a whirlwind, knocking things over and imploding his heart, and like the gales, she couldn't be restrained.

Perhaps there was a part of her that trailed behind her. A part that couldn't keep up with her speedy lifestyle. And so there was a part of her that dragged along, bumping on the pavement, getting lost and confused, and getting tangled in someone else's life.

The time with her was short and fast and it was the way she liked it. It was not the way he liked it, but then he never really got a say when it came to her. He could never pin her down, and he was so klutzy.

When his hands fumbled with the doorknob, and then the smile dropped from his face. The way that his eyes failed to focus, and the way he was only able to comprehend after a double take, a triple take. When his feet tripped over themselves as he tried to backtrack too quickly. His world fell apart and he was not adroit enough to hold it together.

Because there she was, moving too fast. Leaving him behind, strung along, weaved in her trail of a timeline. The key had fallen flat, the leaves were fallen, and he had fallen, too. He had fallen and shattered and how could he piece himself back together when she was one of those pieces?

How were things to be okay when her lips were pressed up against someone that wasn't him? How could he return back to point A when he couldn't let go of something that was always moving? And how could it end with a "Sorry, I love him now."

Everything about her was temporary. Everything but the memories etched into his being. But he loved her. And he would let her keep running with that piece of his heart. Because despite the damage, the wear and tear, he trusted her with that sliver of himself. She had managed to hold onto it for this long, just a little while longer shouldn't be too much of a hassle.

How could he let her slip away? These thoughts returned with the season, but Summer never came back.

------

Right, so... Hopefully I don't make a theme of writing depressing short stories, because thus far that's been true of 2/3 in this collection. One would think with a title like "helium balloons" that this would be light, airy stuff. But nope. Haha. Whoops.

-Angela