I love unassuming trinkets. Connections to places, people, memories all packaged in an innocuous exterior. My once proud collection was now at one however. A cloth artwork, black and white taped to my grey wall. Every glance provoked a flood of memories, vibrant surges of joy, pangs of regret.

I loved her. Warm and fuzzy behind a steely cool facade. The strong comfort whilst I was behind the wheel, flying down the highway, in pursuit of a directionless adventure. A rock amongst a sea of uncertainty, a marshmallow topped hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Trinkets don’t change. They will remain intact, oblivious to circumstances which alter their meaning. I wish I could be the same, to be able to freeze time to when everything was calm between us. A lazy Sunday, curled up on a couch like Persian cats, a trashy TV show we’ll never remember. But times change, people change. A flash of anger, and steely cool becomes deathly cold.

We’re superficial, she said. A word with a flourish but one which brings emptiness. Desolation.

I drive, no destination, no need for one. Foot leaden to the accelerator. A thud, a scream a screech. I cannot move. I’m floating above, watching the horror unfold, my Earthly being still driving.

“Lights out Inmate!”

The cloth is now invisible, and I am alone.

Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash