Out of the Darkness
The sun hasn't risen in
the sky. Pigments of light illuminated from the ground, while the
rest is still dark. A few still sleeping except for the birds
chirping. I lay in the remains of the darkness listing to my own
breathing waiting hearing the soft click of the door, the
clinging against porcelain, and the rustle of feet walking
towards the kitchen. The fridge door squeaks reminding me that I
should fix it. Then the feet move toward the bed room.
"Pretend that you are asleep." I said to myself. The
creaking of the bed and the creases as my boyfriend sits on the
bed taking off his shoes.
Wrapping his arms
around me, he smells so rank that I can hardly breathe.
After-smoke chokes me, and I breathe in deep traces of the
nicotine in my mouth. I wish he'd stop smoking cigarettes. I
pushed him away "You're late. Where have you been?" I choke
"Work." He replies ignorantly, more
than once this conversation arises.
"Three days? Emerson?" I snap,
irritated sick of the worry, the unknowing.
"I told you Jo that I had to go on
a business trip." Emerson hissed.
I stand, getting out of the bed,
frustrated. A little white light shines through the room, making
more gray shadows. "I called your work. They said you were
fired." I snapped glaring at the shadowy figure. Narrowed red
eyes stare at me. I think I see the devil in them.
"I said I got a new job." Emerson
I sigh, irritated, turning away
from the evil eyes. "I don't know who you are anymore." I
"And I can't stand you anymore."
Comes his cold voice.
"You've been fired for three
months. You are never around. Three days or more and when you
come home sometimes you smell like a rotten bar." I ramble
angrily as the sun shines through the room and shines on Emerson
who has raccoon eyes and crusted lips.
"I can't stand to be around you.
All you do is nag and nag." He says.
We stare at each other. I see him
decaying into bones, then a pile of ashes.
"I'm going home." I say, breaking
Blinking Emerson croaks, "You are
home." Pretending not to hear him I start to pack my bag as he
begs me to stay. He's sorry for the thousandth time. "I love
you." is his last plea.
"Good bye Emerson." I say at last
and walk into the sunlight.