Warmth

He sat on the stool next to the bed. She lay on the king-sized bed with old stained dark red sheets. The room looked small for such a large bed. The sky blue curtains on the single window in the room hardly let any light in. It faced towards the busy road and was smeared with rain drops sliding on the glass. Deep in thought of his past and worries of his future, he sat still.

A sudden gasp and life left her. He didn’t check her pulse nor her breath. He knew she was gone. Hidden emotions exploded within him but all his tears were sucked into the pit in his heart where she lived.

He heard a thump and realized he had fallen off the stool and was now sitting on the floor. It was cold. Cold. She would soon be cold too, he thought.

Slowly the warmth of her body will leave her along with the colour of her skin. Her beautiful pink cheeks will soon turn pale. Pink, a colour mostly attributed with feminism. He loved pink. And loved her to see in pink. He shrugged then started collapsing under his own weight and started curling. It looked like the hole in his heart was sucking him in. Like a black hole millions of miles away stealing light and warmth of stars.

Warmth. He couldn’t remember what it felt like.

Leave a Reply