|I got a knock on the door at midnight and forty minutes. I was alone then, having a whiskey neat and thinking about her chestnut hair as it would blow in strong winds that come off the cliffs where we spent our last vacation. We’d drifted apart, it’s true, but we could come back together. I was sure of it. Surely, I’ll call tomorrow. I stood up, a little wobbly, and approached the door. I opened it. A policeman stood there. When was the last time I saw her? I don’t know, about two weeks ago. Well, she’s dead.
The officer said she was out with some friends at a bar, got mixed up in a robbery. Shots were fired. She was hit. He said they’ll find the perpetrators, no worries. I shut the door, and went back to my whiskey, plopping down on the divan. I could never go back to my whiskey.
I would have moved on from our drifting away, easy. And now the separation was made for me, by Fate. Just as well…
My lower lip began to tremble. I would never see her chestnut hair blow on the cliffs again. My breathing became deep. I heaved. Her dimpled smile appeared in my vision. A lump rose in my throat. I burst out crying, and wept like I was a child again, and my beautiful balloon had been stolen from me. I hadn’t cried like that in years. I mixed my tears with my bitter catharsis and opened the door to my heart.
Cavern in the storm.