Still Travelling

"It's coming. It's coming and it's coming for me. The dark shadow is intensifying. I can see it."

 

“He turned to her and said, “You mean, none of the things you said were true?” She didn’t respond. All day he’d been trying to work her up, to make her say something, do something, be angry at him, anything, any thing. She would not grace the culmination of all that life, all those days when she wished him… It was too late. She didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. She was thinking this pencil was the best one she ever had. Why didn’t she buy two packs. They were even on sale. She should’ve bought two packs. “See how softly it glides. There’s a kindness to it. Yes, there surely is a kindness to it.” She turned the top upwards and for a few seconds stared at it. What was she looking for? The kindness? The kindness in which the pencil moved? Perhaps, she was. Perhaps, she was looking for kindness. He turned to leave the room. He was still breathing heavily. She couldn’t bear it. She could not possibly bear to hear that breathing one more time. She thought of turning the pen and…

She said something. He turned around suddenly, “What did you say?” She looked back down at her paper. “What did you say? You said something. What did you say? What did you say?” She was working on the background now. This whole wall needed yet another coat. She was examining the plan carefully. “It’ll all come out together. It will.” She couldn’t wait. In a day or two if she kept at it, it’d come together nicely. “It’ll come together real nice.” She just needed to make sure the pencil did not run out. No, the pencil could not run out. He had left the room some time ago. She knew. She sighed and let out a sudden rush of air emptying those lungs forcefully. She just had to be careful that pencil did not run out.”

Done