Member-only story
The Stunning Brilliance of Her Memory
And the ephemeral questions that come with it
Late winter dusk, velvety and dulcet, and I am walking on the street looking ahead at the lights, hazed, and blurry in the mist, their blue and red and yellow soft, faded out. Looking at these I feel I’m looking back in time at some distant memories. Memories that had been once warm and bright, glowing ambers, but now cooled, stripped off of all the fervor, now carrying only a nameless emotion, only a soft glow, and I feel light, fading in, fading out.
Snowflakes! This late in winter!
I look up and see white flecks against the vast black of the night sky, a million white ants flying down, falling, floating, drifting. I stretch my hand out and crystals land on my palm, sending down spikes of coolness, then melting, vanishing.
A soft breeze comes and caresses my face, and a fragment of memory flits in front of me — of a time from way back. A sunny bright day, of youthful summer, of a long gone May.
Filigreed cover — a mishmash of thick summer leaves and the yellow of the blazing sun — above us; bed of soft plush grass beneath our bodies, the air around us swelled with the scent of a thousand flowers; the trilling of cicadas and the humming of bees, and our fingers entwined, Wisterias holding on to each…
