Joel Henderson

Broken Glass


It was still dark when I woke up that morning. I looked out to the bare streets the only movement was from the dead leaves on the ground blowing up and piling against the garden wall. Today was the first time I would see her again after the last few months. I had to dig my jacket out the bottom of the wardrobe. Nervously I prepared for the daring exit onto the street. The wind was cold and bit at my face. The last few months without her had been a blur but today, much to my worry, I would be able to discuss all the things that went wrong before.
 
I was unsure about going to her place I wasn’t sure if she would consider it invasive as I had made the suggestion. I felt alone in the grey streets but it allowed me to gather my thoughts and really think over what I would tell her. I crossed the cold steel tracks at the rail way crossing being careful to look after the flowers that I bought her. I knew that flowers would not make up for the trouble I had caused but it was a start I suppose. The sun had begun to rise giving a warm touch to the bite but still the wind blew nipping my cheeks.
 
I still remember the weekends she used to spend with me. She brought a touch of class to my rundown apartment. The night I met her she was out with friends in the pub just down the road – somewhere I have been spending a bit too much time at drinking stomach burning amounts. She was beautiful. Her dress was the first thing that drew my attention it wasn’t revealing like the other girls in there, and then it was her eyes. They were unreal like something you would see in a painting. We arranged to meet the next day to go for a walk and get to know each other better.
 
We took a walk along the pier and watched as the waves crashed. The sun shone on our backs but it was her that made me feel truly warm inside. She had me wrapped around her finger from day one. I would do anything to make her happy I didn’t want any another girl to take my name. The next few weeks went like clockwork. We met up most weekends and often through the week; we spoke about what we had done in our lives and what we were going to do. She had ended up staying at the apartment a lot, we considered moving in together but things seemed a little soon.
 
I was now walking through the park which was just on the other side of where she now stayed. I fixed the collar on my shirt and prepared myself for what could be a long talk. I could see the gate already open as I approached. Maybe this was a sign from fate that things would be okay. I could see her waiting as I entered. As I got to her I kneeled down, it was hard to see her here. It felt like years since we put her in the ground but I am sure it’s only been months. I delicately placed the flowers at her head stone. Knowing that it was me who did this is what made it hard. It was one fight and I was out of the door. I couldn’t help but think what kind of a man am I?
 
The walk home felt a lot longer than the walk there. I thought the visit would clear my mind but all it did was make thing foggier. I had apologized and that’s all I could do but it didn’t feel like enough. I stopped in the pub that I met her in almost a year before that. The drinks had become stronger recently it wasn’t just my mouth that was numbed with every gulp it was those painful memories is still have.
 
I continued the rest of the walk home in a staggered fashion. When I got back I opened up the boarded up door and stepped inside. There was no classy aspect about my home life anymore there was cracks in my walls and my drinking habit suppressed any desire to make things better here. It wasn’t even like I felt I deserved it.
 
The walk home was where I decided what I would do to sort my situation. The walk around my apartment with its leaky roof and cracked walls just finalized it. I slowly walked over to the chest of drawers in my living room and looked inside. There were three things inside. The last photo I had of her before everything. There was also the apology note I had written for her to give to her the night I found her unconscious. I read over it and then took out the third thing in the drawer. I let out a laugh as I focused on the floor; with one hand I clenched a fist as I rested the other up beside my head and let out one last apology.
 

 

 

Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Joel Henderson.
Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 28.11.2012.

 

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