Blue
Tick, tock.
The grandfather clock strikes
the hour.
Blue evening glides into the room and dark shadows slither under the ceiling, over the floor, and on the walls, white as a dove.
White morphs into royal blue, navy blue, sky blue.
Blue.
The furniture comes to life as dragons, unicorns, and centaurs; long-forgotten magical creatures that swish and swirl between the blue and the dying sun.
She sits on the sofa and waits.
Waits, for what? She does not know. She only knows she waits.
Tick, tock.
The grandfather clock strikes
the hour.
Strong, punctual and decisive. Its staccato breaks the melody of the meandering evening and the swirling shadows.
Click—the car door closes.
Beep, beep—the alarm engages, and she prepares her smile; its welcoming spark alone in the blue.
She gazes at the front door with its frosted sidelight, as a disfigured figure looms.
The door slides open.
Click! Yellow light floods the room.
The blue dragons, and she
evanesce.
He crosses the room, dragging his young body by its aged soul. Red eyes and sunken face. The sadness burdens him and soaks into his black suit.
He collapses on the sofa that still smells of her—its cushions have absorbed her essence—and drowns his face in his hands. He sobs to the beat of the grandfather clock.
Tick, tock.
The grandfather clock strikes
her death.
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