The Black & White Confessions (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bwconfessions) wrote,@ 2008-01-19 15:40:00 |
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Four of Hearts
The windows rattled in their frames once an hour in the middle of the night. Just across the street from her little apartment, the train sighed and coughed, sick and worn from the pounding rain. Its puffing and wheezing was muffled, but desperate, and it moaned as if calling for her help.
In her bed she watched the second hand as it ticked in unison to the chugging of the train, the face of the clock illuminated by slats of moonlight that seeped through the blinds. She held a pillow, but around her a man’s thick arms were wrapped. Though it was the only place she wanted to be, she found that she could never sleep while next to him. She lay awake, waiting, praying that it would last a little longer. To sleep would cheat her of the little time she had left.
The clacking of the train faded into the distance leaving a dim, empty silence. She listened to his breathing; it was thick like a machine, but strangely content. His heart thudded dully against her back as he slept on. Her eyes were beginning to droop, but she fought the sensation.
A shrill squeal of Presley’s “Heartbreak Hotel” split through the quiet air, yanking her eyelids back open. The phone vibrated against the oaken end table, shattering her remaining chance to savor the moment. This was it. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she prayed. Don’t hear it, please. She held her breath, watching him. The vibrations were almost louder than the ring tone, and the cell danced across the table. There was no way he could sleep through it.
He stirred, and a soft groan escaped his lips as his arms shattered the embrace and he stretched. Swiping blindly, he scooped the noisy contraption from the table and sighed as he opened the little beast and coughed into the receiver, “Kath?”
The bedroom could be a vast, empty field in moments like this. Her lying in bed, his form hunched at the edge of the bed like the Thinker, she felt the cold, rainy night permeate through the windows and fall over her like a blanket. There were echoes, though from what she couldn’t be sure. Time seemed to have stopped and at the same time stretched out before her into eternity, and she was cascading into the expanse of solitude that lay before her.
“I have to go.”
Her eyes closed, her brow drew together, and her lips twitched inward to frown. “Stay.”
Here would be the struggle, the tears, the pleading, and in the end she would be alone in bed, a million years stretching between that moment and the next time she would see him again.
The hands of the clock turned into a frown as she watched them, and they ticked softly as if to say, “I told you so, I told you so.” The windows began to rattle again, and in the distance came the agonized howl of an oncoming train, just loud enough to harmonize with her cries into the night.
The windows rattled in their frames once an hour in the middle of the night. Just across the street from her little apartment, the train sighed and coughed, sick and worn from the pounding rain. Its puffing and wheezing was muffled, but desperate, and it moaned as if calling for her help.
In her bed she watched the second hand as it ticked in unison to the chugging of the train, the face of the clock illuminated by slats of moonlight that seeped through the blinds. She held a pillow, but around her a man’s thick arms were wrapped. Though it was the only place she wanted to be, she found that she could never sleep while next to him. She lay awake, waiting, praying that it would last a little longer. To sleep would cheat her of the little time she had left.
The clacking of the train faded into the distance leaving a dim, empty silence. She listened to his breathing; it was thick like a machine, but strangely content. His heart thudded dully against her back as he slept on. Her eyes were beginning to droop, but she fought the sensation.
A shrill squeal of Presley’s “Heartbreak Hotel” split through the quiet air, yanking her eyelids back open. The phone vibrated against the oaken end table, shattering her remaining chance to savor the moment. This was it. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she prayed. Don’t hear it, please. She held her breath, watching him. The vibrations were almost louder than the ring tone, and the cell danced across the table. There was no way he could sleep through it.
He stirred, and a soft groan escaped his lips as his arms shattered the embrace and he stretched. Swiping blindly, he scooped the noisy contraption from the table and sighed as he opened the little beast and coughed into the receiver, “Kath?”
The bedroom could be a vast, empty field in moments like this. Her lying in bed, his form hunched at the edge of the bed like the Thinker, she felt the cold, rainy night permeate through the windows and fall over her like a blanket. There were echoes, though from what she couldn’t be sure. Time seemed to have stopped and at the same time stretched out before her into eternity, and she was cascading into the expanse of solitude that lay before her.
“I have to go.”
Her eyes closed, her brow drew together, and her lips twitched inward to frown. “Stay.”
Here would be the struggle, the tears, the pleading, and in the end she would be alone in bed, a million years stretching between that moment and the next time she would see him again.
The hands of the clock turned into a frown as she watched them, and they ticked softly as if to say, “I told you so, I told you so.” The windows began to rattle again, and in the distance came the agonized howl of an oncoming train, just loud enough to harmonize with her cries into the night.
