Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

The Big Window

At nights when it got too hot he dragged the mattress down and slept on the floor near the big window. The first night was wonderful, but in the morning he was woken by the sun coming through the window, hitting him right on the eyes. That hurt. The next night he slept facing the other way round. Problem solved.

He vividly remembered the night he felt the heat coming through her shirt. There was a wide gap in the bed between them, yet he could feel the steam rising from her back. He got up, soaked a towel in cold water and wiped her neck and chest. That look on her face, the half asleep half smile was something he captured and locked away in his memory, like all the other good things he stored in his private happiness box, somewhere deep in his brain, which nobody else could access.

In the morning she was gone.

True, he never expected her to stay, but he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed to wake up to an empty house, to find all her belongings gone, including the Shrek ashtray she liked so much. He would have loved to keep that, he could clean it and keep it on top of the TV, and look at it from time to time when the TV programs get too boring.

Ogres are like onions, was always her favourite line. He finally understood what that meant. There were parts of her, layers which he would never know, mysteries he would never unravel. And she made him cry. For the first time in 15 years, he let the tears slide down his cheek and watched the world go hazy.

He lifted the mattress and placed it back on the bed. The big window was open, and the smell of the wet earth floated in. The rains had come. He smiled. Life would go on.

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