A Silent Question
I shut my eyes tightly as if trying to block out some unbearable sight. But nonetheless I could feel it. Pain. Real, honest-to-goodness pain. It gave no explanations and platitudes. Didn't announce itself beforehand. Just waltzed in and perched in my head, helped itself to a cup of tea. It spoke without speaking. Gazed up at me between sips...a tilted head, a silent question: 'How long am I staying?' This was new. Had it asked me before? I couldn't recall much but the unspoken understanding that it called the shots. A huge, hulking figure stood at your doorstep, you didn't ask too many questions. Though I suppose, someone had to have opened the door. Had it been me all this time? The words stumble on their way out, clearly unfamiliar with the journey, but before long they find their way: "You're not." I opened my eyes, to find the unbearable still before me and not magically vanished by willpower, except one major difference. Pea