The bells signal the eleventh hour. Each cacophonous explosion chimes high above the radio. I do my best to keep the volume loud to take in our favorite song, but the old tune is barely audible, drowned out by the clock. After a strenuous day my mind is addled, and body worn.
My is fraught with images of your once voluminous body now relegated to a lifeless husk. I see you, forever trapped in a simulacre of life resting upon pine and cloth ready to be food for worms. Memories then take me back to that sudden moment of losing you. That instant of seeing your being wrenched from this world replays constantly in my mind.
The house is pitch black, save for a sole street light that shines through the side window. I take a second to look around the darkness and notice how the shadows grow ominous. I watch blackness creep out of the corners and encroach with vine-like tenacity. The recent gift of loneliness brings a newfound desolation to a place once full of life. My weathered hands caress the length of the old, wooden, stair rail.
The closer I approach the bedroom, the less that streetlight penetrates the enveloping darkness. Despite the obsidian enshrouding the hallway, years of repetition allow my feet to locate what was once our room.
As I enter my chambers, a pair of small yellow orbs greet me in the night. Just then, memories of the day when we found Old Miss as a kitten flood back. My ears pick up her faint purring; it brings me a moment of comfort. In one arm I take the hefty feline to the bedroom window, the open space allows me to take in the night’s summer air. Old Miss sniffs for moment and gingerly makes her way down the roof and to the alley behind the house.
How many times had you stood at this very spot to watch that cat make the same trip over and over? I wonder as a dagger sharpened with pain and longing enter my chest. How many times had I taken such moments for granted? I know the answer. With a long yawn, I put an end to my pondering and shut the window.
I plant myself on the bed. The once luxurious furniture feels less hospitable now that it is only occupied by one. The gleam of a nearby picture frame glimmers faintly. Though not visible, the contents of the photograph are vivid in my mind.
The sun was high that day last year. You were there, that blond hair against the blue backdrop of the afternoon sky was further complimented by that wide grin always on your face. My head falls onto the feather pillow as I begin to stare into the empty, vastness that was our bedroom ceiling.
I cannot recall how long I lay in my waking slumber until the bells begin to chime, signaling midnight has arrived. My eyes begin to close but a quick movement by the dresser pops them open. Had it not been for my fatigue I could swear I caught the sight of two small yellow orbs. No, it is just my fatigue; I reassert myself just then, and a blaring racket from downstairs finds its way up. Never had our radio gotten that loud. I find myself frozen in my bed, all too aware of the presence lying next to me. I shudder then take in the knowledge I will never be alone in the shadows again.