Smoke and Shadows (Part 2)
But he knew it was a stupid thought. The dead did not dance. They were gone. Nothing remained after death. Her body had been burned up and her ashes spread. There were no more dances. He’d long ago lost his chance.
It was strange, the things that he regretted now that she was gone. He wondered if he had ever told her how much he loved her. Perhaps his actions had been enough to make her know. But there are no certainties like a declaration.
He sat up and ran his hands through his oily hair before he fished the pack of camels out from the pile of haphazard papers on the coffee table. The flick of the lighter brought out a small flame and reminded him of that bon fire and her last dance. The tip of the cigarette glowed and he inhaled slowly. It made no difference. There was no filling the emptiness that clawed inside him and dug into his bones.
Not sure if he took his meds, he went to the kitchen. The small cupboard was bare except the small row of perscriptions and the tall bottle behind them. There was a cocktail in there that did nothing to ease the ache. A look at the small pill box told him he had not taken any meds before he’d gone to bed. The clock said it wasn’t too late to take them now. So, he popped open the compartment for Sunday and dumped them into his hand. He looked at them a moment, wondering why he bothered, then put him in his mouth a washed them down with a swallow of wiskey. It lived in the cupboard with all his other drugs. What was one more?
Aching and slamming against his chest, his heart declared its panic. The room compressed itself around him and the air would not draw itself into his lungs. With a cry, he threw the glass. It crumbled against the floor upon impact. His cigarette fell from his hand and he didn’t notice when it burned his foot. Luckily, it went out when it fell into the alcohol he didn’t know he’d spilled.
Falling to his knees, the pain gushed out in a hoarse rasp and a sorrow beyond tears. Those were dried up and no longer adequate. Rocking, he begged the memories to stop playing. They infested his mind, leaving festered sores.