Ｒｅｌａｔｉｖｅ Ｌｉｇｈｔ

Sonic Collage

744 lonely hours stuck on tracks of nothing meaningful, carrying a train with no particular destination or intentions to stop. 768 interminable hours ago, he woke up minutes before six o’clock. Placing his eyes in between the curtains, he spied on the birds through tall windows still wet from the long and dreadful winter. I laid in bed half-awake, glancing at his tranquil silhouette with tired but passionate eyes, appreciative of that delicate silence and in disbelief the earth insisted in maintaining its cycle around the sun. Perhaps it’s obvious now, but when I saw him there, adjusting his underwear, waiting for the alarm to go off any minute now, I knew our situation no longer fitted the life we desperately tried convincing ourselves was enough. 1 miserable hour ago, clouds moved through caramel skies as the sound of my alarm went off. I searched but could not find a reason to open my eyes. “Today, I’ve decided to stay inside,” was my first thought; “but I’m behind on my mortgage,” was the second. 719 infuriating hours ago, I woke up either terrified, resentful, or outraged, with adolescent thoughts of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. As I rushed myself out of a steaming shower, I giggled at his words, still lingering in my ears, expecting me to forgive the hideousness with which he left. During breakfast, my shaking hands spilled coffee on my red tie. I searched but could not find a reason to clean it. Driving to work, I considered returning home. Why did I not change my tie? I lit a cigarette, but instantly struggled to smoke it — he is no longer here to tell me to put it out. When it fell to my feet, I wondered if I’d dropped it on purpose. Decided I didn’t, I reached for it when (1) a loud sound of metal bending and windows crashing, (2) fog covering the vehicle, (3) an unexpected scream leaving my mouth and (4) a particularly agonizing crash interrupted my morning. 121 insensible hours ago, the telephone rang. Captivated by the book in my hands, I did not notice it ringing until it was too late. Hearing the continuous sounds of no one on the other side, I hung up with eyes fixated on my book. I searched but could not find a reason to call back. Whoever it was, they clearly did because in less than a minute, the phone rang again. “Hello?” – I said to someone who remained quiet, until: “Melvin, it’s me.” – you can probably tell by my reaction, but that voice had me speechless. “Do you miss me?” — My hands felt weak, I kept thinking to myself “I should hang up.” “Please. Will you answer me? Are you alone?” – How (how!) could he expect me to answer? “Look, I don’t have a lot of time, but I’m leaving the country — my mother is ill, again. If you could say something, anything.” – I was decidedly hanging up. “I’m sorry. For everything. Really. If you’d just let me explain. Can you meet me? Tonight? Come see me, I’m at—.” 30 anesthetized minutes ago, I left my home, drove to work and felt strangely pleased with myself. The roads were unusually empty, but I welcomed it. Arriving, I also noticed the best spots at the University’s parking lot were vacant which made me think my luck was starting to change. As I entered the elevator, a janitor joined me. “Professor, what are you doing here on a Sunday?” – she said. 711 innocent hours ago, I woke up in a hospital bed. I looked at myself in the mirror but couldn’t recognize his face. Hearing me sob, two nurses entered the room.