Five Years and Eight Months Later
A resounding no. She greets the carvings in the table. Her fingers trace the initials of some past, love-drunk crush; she wonders if T + G are all right.
The end of whatever she held onto liquefies. She thinks it is outside in the soil somewhere, nourishing hungry roots below.
She is bare; moth-eaten. Her open minded eyes stare at the lines on the ceiling. The ‘no’ isn’t spoken aloud but she feels it complete her.
Gasoline fills a cold, empty tank. Hurt and past anger no longer seeps into her pages.
Thoughts no longer bear another person’s insecurities and responsibilities. Her mind breathes in fresh feelings and new opportunities, a frightening development after so long in the dark.
She thumbs a carving of an unfinished manta ray. It has no eyes, no stinger; its open mouth is ready to eat the school of minnows ahead of it.
It is difficult for someone who has not endured the pain; understandable to those who survived it. She replays freedom in her head until the overhead lights turn off and she is left alone. She gets a feel of the new sensation. Closure.
