I wrote this flash fic piece from the perspective of one of my favorite characters in the novel I’m writing.
And don’t worry… he’s gonna be okay.:)
The room is warm. Stifling. I would open the window if the breeze wouldn’t carry the scent of lilacs and an onslaught of memories.
I can’t sleep.
I kick off the sheets and stumble to the window, leaning my forehead against the cool glass. Respite from the heat seeps from the smooth pane into and across my forehead, providing a touch of relief from the oppression that coats my body in a thin film of sweat.
I keep my eyes wide, afraid of what my mind’s eye will see if I close them again. Rather, afraid of how my heart would respond.
I suck in a breath and stare through the glass. All I can see is inky darkness – the firm silhouettes of barns and treelines that straggle across a horizon the sun abandoned. These are silhouettes I could trace in my sleep. I’ve lived most of my life to see new skylines… why does the skyline of my childhood so fascinate me now?
It beats staring at the untouched pillow next to mine.
My breath fogs the windowpane and I twist my head to the side, cooling my cheek against the glass while heat burns behind my eyes. I don’t fight the tears anymore… at least not when I’m alone.
I clench my jaw against the word. A year ago it meant independence. Freedom to do whatever I wanted to do. Freedom to go wherever I wanted to go. Freedom to choose the future I wanted to live.
Freedom to choose someone who would be taken from me.
It is not good for the man to be alone…
My hands tighten into helpless fists and I slide to the floor, letting my head fall back against the wall. Tears trickle into my ears as I lift my face to the ceiling.
He knows what’s coming. It’s all I’ve been able to say to Him since…
I bow my head. I’m sick of saying it. I wonder if He gets sick of hearing it. But I have to tell Him. Our lines of communication can’t go down, and so… I whisper.