Revelation

It was dark and I was half asleep. I thought I was awake but the time was moving quicker and my body was still empty. There is something I need to remember about aneurysms — it was important, it might bring the whole thing together. I mustn’t forget. I can’t lose it to sleep. The light evades the blinds. The birds are calling. She is up already and I watch her day begin. She tells me she is tired, and her eyes have that same pleading shape as morning. The computer is only two steps away so I raise the blinds and type the word into Google. I can’t see outside — the moisture has collected like a veil, turning the glass frosted. An aneurysm is a bulge in a blood vessel caused by weakness — the pressure causes a small area to grow, and then burst. I’m not sure I understand why I am here, why this is relevant. I click a link to another forum. Her dad cried non-stop for the first week. He only stopped when he slept. This is normal, someone replied. Don’t worry, he doesn’t want to cry, it’s just the brain confused, sending out wrong signals. Time begins again, she says - a throwaway line, but I think that might be it. Like watching an old movie with bits missing - sometimes large chunks, sometimes grainy, or just completely disappeared - and you haven’t got a clue what it’s all about. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life, another man replies, with empathy. Yes (they agree) — all things take time, and that’s where they live now, at the bottom of the page, amid the white space and silence.