The fish almost glittered among a beautiful background of greenary and nothing else. The dish beckoned and he obayed. Midway through the 3rd bite he was also digesting the news of the demise of one of the great inetllectuals responsible for his own mental renaissance. For the remainder of the meal his memories of the great man were his companion and others at the table were, suddenly and distinctly, invisible.
It was as though the intimate dinning room had shifted from intimacy to emotional belligerance. The need to step outside, into the nearly arctic chill, for a liberating smoke became all consuming. He didnt give pleas to avoid the cold a second listen and with angry footsteps he found himself outside the restaurant, with the lighter offering the only source of light, He didnt smoke the cigarette, he didnt inhale it. He consumed it. He devoured it with the anger of a man cursing fate, with the fury of a man who couldnt tackle the heavens for their dirty deed.
He awakened from the nightmare by the hands of angel. Her Right hand on his left shoulder ‘come in, you will catch a cold’.
That simple phrase, dripping with humanity, injected with a natural tenderness, brought back hope through the tiniest of prisms.
The light is always there.
We just have to see it.
Reblogged this on Words Reign Supreme and commented:
Without Hope we are a mirage