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❁ུ۪۪
So strange, how simple it is to cross the line of emotion. The recalcitrant night only offered more affliction, reminding Marjorie that she was left with nothing more than fond memories and evanescent wishes. Every cell of her being pleaded for his touch, his words, his mere presence. But Heinrich was on the English Channel, floating further and further away, and she was in the home that they had shared, linen pillow clutched to her chest as though the sensation would bring him back.
She was surrounded by his ghost, the nebulous spirit wicked as it danced around her bed and lingered where he had once been. Incensed tears poured from her cinnamon eyes, their zealous flair submerged in the pools of heartache. Wisps of hallucinations appeared like projections onto the space around Marjorie, who hadn't the slightest of intentions of dealing with the apparitions lurking nearby. They were almost comforting, for they brought him back, but the reminder of his absence reigned champion.
Vulnerable and cynical, the brunette wanted to scream at the world. She craved to hear the asperous cry of her raspy throat as she told everything and anything off obscenely. Blame, blame, blame, she only had the strength to blame. It was as if all forces were pitted against her, their effects like salt in her fresh wounds.
Tranquil slumber was out of the picture, and so she allowed her feelings to consume her. Her vision was muddy, but she managed to set the gramophone to the song that had played when they had begun their expeditious excursion together. Its palatableness had waned, replaced by a poignant sentimentality that made her ears ache. But she greeted the misery with open arms, appreciative for the mnemonic, even if it was grave.
"Why did you have to leave me?" she uttered, laying back to face the ceiling. Phantom shadows waltzed around her, tickling her skin tauntingly, as if they were holding Heinrich above her, just far enough so that he was out of reach. Marjorie was grabbing at air, searching for something that she knew might be forever lost.
To her left, to her right, they toyed with her head, flashes of his ardent complexion appearing and vanishing in seconds. He was beside her, before her, behind her.
And then he was gone.
Gone like an autumn breeze as the seasons expired to winter. Gone like the moon as the sun rose. Gone like the crushing awareness that had dissipated into apathy.
Having exerted herself, she fell asleep only because it was impossible to suffer without having something to lose.
The stars watched from their positions in the somber sky as she fretted whilst dormant. And they had their mercies.
Her wraiths had only allotted for a few hours of rest, so she readied herself for the day drowsily. Scleras bloodshot and figure weak, she questioned her ability to endure work for so long, choosing to ignore her body's requests and slamming the front door behind her as she left.
