There Was a Time

Reads: 182  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a fictional story of the thoughts of what could have been.

Submitted: March 25, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 25, 2008

A A A

A A A


There Was a Time

When I saw her walking down the street, I did not recognize her.  Maybe it was how she was bundled up for the winter months, her hands shoved deep into her pockets; the drawstrings of her fur lined hood tightly closed, but I didn’t recognize her.  Now looking back I wish I would have realized that it was her.  Maybe I could have stopped her, found the nerve to talk to her and catch up after all these years.  Possibly inviting her to the coffee shop across the street and we could sit there and chat for a time.  It would have been a familiar feeling to have her sitting with me again but I don’t think that could have changed who I have become now.

We had met in high school and thought that it could last forever.  I’m sure that you can guess how that ended up.What we did have lasted through graduation and a few more years after that.  We got married but the topic of children had never come up between us.  Maybe we both had come to the conclusion of that what we had was gone and would never return. I know that is correct. It was only a few months until she started sleeping with my brother. Yes, my brother of all people. The day I found out was the day that I ended it all. It seems that when it comes to cheating, everyone else but the person who’s getting cheated on knows and the people who do know laugh at you behind your back. Maybe, I thought as I look back on it, the person who is being cheated on would rather not know the same amount as they want to know about it. Sure I wish I didn’t have to find out. Maybe she would be walking down the street with me today on this cold December day if I had never known.  The whole proceedings have more or less led me to become iniquitous in nature; a cold-hearted bastard as some would say. I don’t really care what other people are to think about me, it is not them to judge me. Only I can judge me and I don’t give a damn. At this point I could bring up death and all that concerns it when we die along with the scaffolding we call religion as a means of law and order, but I don’t think my thoughts are of interest to you on that subject. Instead I will revert back to the focus of all this, her. 
She liked to wear her hair down, a shiny black with softness that I always longed to feel as I would wait for her as she climbed into bed beside me. Her eyes were a soft brown that felt welcoming and strange at the same time. Like how at a play, often times they are recycled and redone, but each time it is performed, there is something different being done behind the scenes. Her slim figure always seemed to find its way perfectly next to mine, moving ever so slightly at times to maximize intake from my warm spots. I close my eyes now, recalling all of this as though it could possibly unfold again in front of me with nothing having changed at all. I open them again and realize that there was a time for all of that and it’s not now. 

Maybe if I ever see her again I will stop her, but for now as I continue to walk down the street, I realize that letting it be would be for the better. My own personal depravity from it all has made me a man that she would not remember but still a man who can do anything he wants.


© Copyright 2017 mike folley. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply