Prisms

The water was calm that day. The tides rolled over one another as they crept their way towards the shore, elegantly displaying their neglect of fears and doubts of what would become of them when they got there. They were not afraid of crashing - they embraced it.

The breeze swept at the leaves on the bridge, forming circles of foliage dancing among the litter and humble heaps of snow and crushed ice, as a man with pale skin watched them. How beautifully they danced in the night; how beautifully he watched. They were the end title of his journey - the photographer's final adieu.

Against the cool winter breeze, the man shut his eyes.

"I love you," I told him softly, my breath warm against his neck. He laughed, the sound echoing in the haze, creating a memory. He threw his hands out over the side of the railings, caressing the wind between his fingertips. His eyes were closed as his mouth raised itself into a tremendous smile. No beauty was equivalent to that of him, I thought, not at that moment. That single moment, spun around an entirety battle cries.

On the bridge, the man's eyelids flashed open with a gasp, frightening a flock of white seagulls as they cawed and flapped their wings, rising hurriedly into the night sky among the stars. They do not appreciate it, the man thought, the ability to fly.

"I told you already, Andrew," he snapped, the hands that caressed the sea air unwilling to caress anything less beautiful. I swallowed the lump in my throat. My anger and jealousy spiralled through my body, piercing my heart, poisoning my blood, corrupting my mind and blinding me. I told you already, Andrew, he had said. But why were those words so painful, when their meaning was so unclear? Or perhaps it was the lack of clarity that made it bite at my skin so. I told you already, Andrew. Surely I would have remembered, surely I would have seen it on his face, in his eyes, surely I would have noticed the words woven into his hair or perhaps he brushed them out long ago, the same time he did his consideration. The words mocked me. I told you already, Andrew.

The bridge seemed to shake, wavering under his touch as he stood, or rather, tried to stand on the concrete. There were bunches of fallen twigs and leaves, left for dead by his feet. Litter and cigarette buds laughed at their misfortune. He sensed the pounding in his head before it arrived. His hands shook, his arms dotted with the telltale signs of cold, and as his legs wobbled, he felt in that moment that if they gave out, he wouldn't attempt to stop them. He wasn't entirely convinced he'd do himself the good deed of picking them up either.

"Why do you do this to me?" I heard my own voice croak out, eyes bleary and damp. His chiselled face held mine in his stare. I used to think of him as beautiful, flawless, like a statue. But, like a statue, now I only saw him as the cold, the empty, and the hard. One subtle dip of his head, one subtle inclination that he wasn't gone - but resting.

"I told you already, Andrew," were the only words he spoke as I dropped my head into my hands. My mother would look upon me and would not feel my pain, only her own disgust at my weeping stature.

"Do you love me?" This happened on occasion. I can't say I wasn't expecting his response. If I asked for three words, I'd receive five. But still I asked, waiting for the day he'd decide if he were to leave, or to wake.

The man collapsed against the railings. He was right: he had no will power left to try and remain on his feet. Instead he sank until he was perched on the very edge of the bridge. Giving in, he pressed his body against the metal of the rails, the rusted objects carving into him. He pushed harder to feel the pleasant pressure on his chest, almost knocking the wind out of him. But it felt nice: relaxing. His legs dangled over the glistening water that laid a good forty feet beneath him, the railings the only separation between his frail body and the abyss below. He wanted to feel the adrenaline of his altitude, but to no avail. He still felt the same: calm, sad, and drunken.