December 31stThe air was still in anticipation. The night as tight as a bow before the shot. The ticking of the old wall clock overpowering the room. No voices, no speech. No laughter in merriment. No music through the speakers amongst a crowed. No silence. The curtains drawn. All the doors closed and locked. No cars driving the streets. Sleep is thick in the houses in a row. Fleeting until midnight. The clocks ticks ever closer. To a new day. To a new resolution. To a new light. Cheers. The only drink is a glass of ice water to quench a night thirst. The story just read the only thoughts left. The last thoughts. Time is too slow, yet won't slow down. The fire place is cold. The candles unlit. The air was still in anticipation. The night as tight as a bow before the shot. The dawn of the new year has broken.
Lessons Yet LearnedI always tell my friends that they just have to pull through. That it's not as bad as they think. I never give myself advice. I haven't learned that lesson yet. Not quite. You may ask, if you haven't learned that lesson then how do you know you have not learned it? Good question. I'm not sure, only sure that I haven't learned. Not yet.I think the first real time I realized that I hadn't learned was when I realized my one goal, the only goal I had promised myself, was unobtainable.It still gets me. Unobtainable. Might as well say impossible. An unreality. An illusion. Fake.My goal was a fake. Then why did I even change my life, my way of thinking, the way I viewed things, the path I was on, if I couldn't get to the end that was promised?Just thinking about it makes me cry. Let me sulk. Let me mourn the life I can no longer lead. It's too late to give me a shoulder, a helping hand, my own advice. I haven't learned, remember? And thanks to that, I never will. I can't afford to learn.
The Apology He couldn't find her. Damn his big mouth. He'd scared her off.It was the day after Valentines and Charlie was spending it searching, running all over town, looking, hoping to find Lynn to apologize. At the edge of a park he came to a boat channel. His last hope before he returned home. What was he kidding; it wasn't home without her, as sappy as it sounded. But home or not, he'd been up all night and needed time to regroup. Sitting below the rock wall on a piece of recycled concrete she sat. She was still, watching the local water birds with the long bills hunt for food. He stood at the top, looking down at her, enjoying the look of her, the peace her presence brought to him. After a time, when looking wasn't enough, he made his way down to her. He had to make sure she was alright, that they were alright. Not saying a word, he sat beside her. He longed to touch her, t