Envelopes

It was dark, save for the dim yellow bulb casting shadows. The blue sky outside was meaningless; to him, there was only darkness, heavy drapes drawn tightly. He fought tears as he cradled the crumpled stack of envelopes. Each, scrawled "return to sender" over the front. He rocked to and fro, sobbing. Each envelope, a memory. The first drink. The first kiss. Time together, as they traveled across the continent. A chance meeting on the train, he, a divorcee, she, on the rebound. And the romance of a cross country rail tour sparking their passion. Three months on, he'd written to her frequently, thinking her silence was just the the distance they covered across the oceans. Now, in his arms, stacks of unopened letters, shattered dreams. He was bitter for it, yet he couldn't have known. As a train ride started everything, a bus crash on the way back just ended it.

Bus Stop 13

The bright, early morning calm was shattered by the blast of an air horn, a screech of tires and a screeching of birds shaken awoken in a flutter of wings. The bus lurched forwards and back again as the air brakes released and the door slid open as shocked passengers rushed out. They gathered in stunned silence; mouth agape, hands over mouth as the body lay in front of the bus. Almost as suddenly the crowd shook itself into a frenzy as the scene in front  of them became clear.
He cursed under his breath. He was late, and standing in front of the mirror adjusting his tie, he noticed a sliver of red on his collar. He'd cut himself shaving, and having to look for a fresh shirt when he was late for a meeting was just what he needed. He tore off his shirt, grabbed a fresh one from his cupboard, dressed and ran out letting another expletive as his coffee very nearly tipped over towards him. It was just the morning he needed.
She was already hurrying to work, jacket over the arm holding the morning's brew from the corner coffee and bagels. Sunshades covered her eyes, swollen from a night's worth of crying, and a night's lack of sleep. She could only just swear as she tried to gather her wits around her, handbag swinging off a shoulder as she struggled to hang on to her files, jacket and coffee. She hardly noticed the kind old man who'd always start her day with a friendly hello and warm smile. It was just the morning she needed.
He felt a sense of remorse as he hurried, events of the previous night playing on his mind. the frustration of not being able to be with her, the wait. the anger, and the sarcasm. A quiet evening together ended with an argument and he'd turn on his heel and left her. In a fit of anger he'd switched off his phone, and now as it relentlessly beeped with all the messages and missed calls from her, he began to regret it. And as he crossed the street, he hardly noticed his bus coming around the corner a block away.
She left the place in tears, unable to hold back anymore. Too many people had a piece of her time, and it had been difficult, impossible even to see him like before. She had looked forward to the quiet time together, but got held back and before she could even apologize, he'd stormed off. As she fought a tear in the corner of her eye, she hardly noticed her bus coming down the street.
He texted a smiley, something he used to do when he missed her. He paused and added "I love you. m sorry c u on the bus" . He hit "Send" and stepped off the kerb to cross the street to Bus Stop 13. A blast of the air horn. A screeching of brakes. Pigeons fluttering away.
She cursed as her phone bleeped. She stopped and scrambled around for her phone. She stepped of the kerb towards Bus Stop 13 as she squinted to read the message. A blast of the air horn. A screeching of brakes. The coffee cup fell to the ground exploding its contents over the street as its cover detached.
It didn't take long for the crowd to grow. Muttering, shaking heads. Sirens.
She fell to the ground as she recognized the sprawled body..

Losing Grip

He stared at his mobile phone  near the edge of the table, willing it to bleep.  He longed for the days when it bleeped whenever  he expected it to;  almost telephatically, he would take out his phone from his pocket  and find a just-delivered message.  Some days he would wonder if she were thinking of him; and a message arrives. He'd send her a message and almost always, she'd reply with a "I was just thinking of you!". This time, though, it was silent.
He knew that things were changing in her life - trying hard to gaining control of her own life, making things work - and he wasn't part of it and he felt left out. He very much wanted the best for her, and he really wanted her to be happy; but deep down inside, he longed for the part of her that meant so much to him.
He took his phone in his hand and thumbed thru the old messages. There weren' t that many of late. True, whenever they met, he still saw her eyes light up, her face flashing the smile. She would still look at him playfully and mouth "I love you" at him. She rarely, though, spent late evenings at work, and even rarer still, spend her time in his room with his company.
Like she used to. He  felt a tinge of emptiness inside him.
Absentmindedly, he stroked her wallpaper picture on his mobile phone. They didn't spend much time together at work, and they hardly thought of each other after work. And he realised that they had begun to spend time at their regular watering hole even less.
He felt the angst build up in his chest. A yawning, gaping crevice, filled with love, drying up and unreplaced. Things were changing.

The rush

He grimaced as he heard the voice on the telephone. "Please..? Can you come now?..I.. Need you .. here"
The voice, getting smaller as the words were mentioned, quavered, on the verge of breaking into tears. He felt the conflict build inside him.
"I'm still a bit of a way away", he said, biting his lip. "maybe twenty minutes."
"please.. hurry".. the voice began to break..
He'd been spending his time with her since her breakdown, coaxing, caring, bringing her to her feet. Juggling this double life has begun to take its toll on him. She'd grown more and more reliant on him, and his double life had begun to clash.
He sighed as he turned the corner and thundered the car down the road, eating up the miles effortlessly. He glanced at the car in his mirror as he approached a turn, only to find himself hurtling into a mass of nearly stationary cars. He slammed on the brakes, pressing harder against the throbbing anti locks and heaving the steering wheel to one side giving the car additional stopping distance. He heaved a sigh of relief, only find his head snapping back as the car behind him, unable to stop in time, rammed head on into the rear of his car.
He  saw the front of his car crumple in slow motion as he watched, eerily detached from the carnage, the front ram into the mass of the metal, folding up and the windshield developing a spider web of cracks. Then darkness followed...

The window

She stared at the ground below her. Momentarily, she felt amazed at how much smaller things looked, even though it was just the window of the fifth floor. A soft breeze on her skin made her skin taut, the nervousness giving her a chill.
She became aware of her heart pounding as her eyes focused on an imaginary point on the sidewalk. That point, she thought would be where she would touch the ground first. She imagined herself in slow motion, rushing down to that point, feeling the air against her skin,her senses awry trying to fight the feeling of weightlessness. She'd hit the ground almost flat, her skull crunching against that point. She'd feel a sharp pain momentarily before she would pass out, a flash of light in her eyes, before eternal darkness.
Would her life flash before her eyes? She wondered. If it did, would she regret stepping off the window? She closed her eyes,and felt the metal window frame against her skin. Her senses, fully charged up at the tension, were extra sensitive. The warm air around her felt chilled against her skin. Her ears picked up voices of people going about their daily lives across the street and she smelt the wafting scent of a nearby barbecue.
Her mind flashed back to a fancy restaurant. Grilled lamb rack. Taken aback at the size.Someone getting angry for ordering that. Getting up in a huff, dragged by the hand.Yelled at all the way to the car. Screaming, yelling.The back of the hand..
Tears began to well in her as she recollected this. The lonely crying in the bathroom.The sad look on his face as he came to. The apologies, regrets, all lies until the next flare up.
She opened her eyes again, and watched as a tear rolled off her nose and down to the sidewalk.
Follow that,.. she said.She imagined her tear hitting the sidewalk and smashing into smithereens, not a trace, nothing left. Just like her feelings for him. Nothing left. No more apologies, no more regrets.
She took a deep breath. Its time. But her mind was not done replaying her thoughts. She felt the sadness, the struggle to come to work and pretend everything was alright. She remembered the violent episodes, each bigger than before. The despair. And she remembered the caring voice.The breath against the skin..
She remembered him standing over her desk. The late evenings, long chats. He understood! She remembered how he seemed to understand her needs, how comfortable she was with him. How she naturally trusted him, how complete she felt with him.
She had both feet over the window sill and one hand was all that made the difference. Her hand trembled at the strain. She wanted to let go, away from the pain. Now her mind had deserted her, reminding her of her pillar of strength. She wished he was here, he would help her. Again, despair welled in her. Could she stand going through this loneliness again? The pain?
A twitch in her shoulder reminded her.. Its time! Its time! let go! Let go of all the pain and be in peace! She closed her eyes and began to sob..

The Morning After

She felt warm sunlight on her face and she stirred. She turned over and felt a hand next to her; she gave a low moan and wiggled over till she could place her head on the crook of the shoulder. She cuddled up to the body, warm and comforting, and she rubbed her cheek on the skin, feeling safe. And fingers began to stroke her hair, and she began to feel the stirring again inside her. As the fingers played with her hair and stroked the back of her neck, she began to yearn for more and the fingers moved slowly but surely down the neck along her spine. She arched her back and pressed herself against the skin as a burning built up inside her. Her eyes still shut, she began to realize that this was not something she was used to, and the skin smelt strangely familiar and yet at the same time, not.
She opened her eyes, and gasped in surprise. Instinctively, she pulled the covers over her and sat up. She relaxed when events of the last night rushed into her stream of consciousness. She realized she was fully clothed, and she began to carefully string her thoughts together.
She remembered the party, and the fight, and her boyfriend had stormed off and left her. She remembered the anger, the throwing herself into the party and letting every bit of the anger go. There were loud music, flashing lights, the exhaustion, and.. the face..
"You were there, weren't you?" she asked.
He had sat up on the corner of the bed. He nodded. He had seen her almost making a fool of herself in the middle of the dance floor and had caught her as she lost her balance. She had been really upset and had broken down into a bundle of shuddering, sobbing nerves in his arms. Not having a place to go, he had taken her to his home, into his bed.
He'd gotten up in the early hours to hear her crying in her sleep, and gotten into bed with her and cradled her till she calmed down. And with her in his arms and soundly asleep, he, too began to roll off into slumber..

Calm before the storm

He got up from his chair and stretched. He walked around his table towards his door. It had been a long morning filled with video conference after another, and frankly, he'd felt tired. Standing up sort of stretched his aching muscles and that made him feel like taking a short stroll.

He opened his door and scanned the sea of cubicles spread out in from of him. As he was about to step out, he caught a familiar figure at one of the cubicles.

She stared intently at her pc screen, typing away. He admired for a moment; she held her head high, and, instead of slouching in her seat like the others, she sat with her back straight and shoulders back. Every once in a while she would cock her head to one side, thinking; and when in paticularly deep thought, she would press her index finger to her bottom lip, sometimes tapping it, and when she found the answer the finger would straighten, and she would nod to herself and continue typing away.

"See something you like?" came a voice next to him. He turned and found his secretary looking at him with a smile at the corner of her mouth. She was a tall elderly woman, greying at the temples who wore her hair pulled back into a bun at the back of her head. She tended to mother him at times, but she was sensible and he didn't mind. He gave an embarrased smile as he realized he was leaning against the door frame, weight on one leg and arms casually crossed.

"The new girl's caught your fancy eh? Everyone's talking about it; thought you should know."

The words took a while to sink in as he watched his secretary walk away. He figured it wouldn't be too difficult for people to figure that out. After all, he did spend more time explaining things to her than to the others.

He'd found her to be more intelligent than the others and she was quick to ask things whenever things were not clear, and her work always came out with a little extra. Because of that he found it worth his time to spend a little more time with her than anyone else, and he'd also begun to look forward to the little exchanges.