Author S. K. Nicholas

Opening my hand at the foot of the garden in an effort at catching snowflakes, a bird lands on it instead and pecks at my wrist. Feeling the urge to vomit, there’s a hole in the sky that lets me see back to when she was just a girl. Standing there gazing up at the heavens, the light hurts my eyes and makes me sink to my knees. The days are lifeless, and the night’s full of echoes of half-remembered memories involving trying to photograph the different stages of her smile while downing shots of foul tasting rum. Through the window comes the sound of lullabies. They drift up the stairwell and find us in bed with our clothes tossed to the floor. In moments of delirium we come undone, and only by colliding can we put ourselves back together again. A cigarette hanging from my mouth as the music of Pink Floyd sends us someplace else, the clock ticks like drums and her heart beats like exploding stars. Bodies glued by sweat, we fade from view like the glare of headlights in early morning mist. There’s a wave that needs to be surfed, but not today. Mouths opening and closing in sync with the ebb and flow of the storm, the rage subsides as we close our eyes and move out of time. It happens when you least expect it, and before you understand, it’s gone. Such is the sweet and sorrowful melody that has been the soundtrack to our lives. We pass through the years, and the world spins like it never even knew our names. We experience so many revelations, and yet it’s as if we were only ever sleeping. Exploring my face in the bathroom mirror, the lines that show my age are outnumbered by those that express my melancholy. They ooze the flavours of so many stories, but being numb gets the better of me each and every time.