…but I guess my type does have a type, too, and their type has a type and…
Are we connected? Are fully submitted? Wonderful post to reflect on from Jonathan. Visit his blog to leave a like/comment and hit the follow button if you’re not following this awesome and selfless blogger as yet.
Jack Payet absentmindedly sat in the empty office amidst the clutter of reports strewn on the floor, twisting his wedding ring back and forth bruising the pale finger in the process. Things were not as they used to be and he found himself staying later at the office pretending to throw himself into his journalistic work so he’ll be the last person to leave.
Until he stopped leaving altogether.
His assistant editor had found him asleep on the couch twice with an overnight bag on the floor but didn’t have the gall to say anything. However, curiosity got the best of her the fifth time she found him chasing sleep away with a yawn as he struggled to get his jacket on to begin work for seven and without holding back, breached his privacy by remarking, “Don’t you go home anymore, Jack?”
And before he could stop himself, words were tumbling out of his mouth. “Sometimes, you can’t go home.” Before she could ask what he meant, words that he never shared with anyone since the mishap tumbled out in quick succession before he changed his mind about sharing.
“The comfy embrace of bed and sheets no longer welcomes me. Our bedroom feels… hallowed out as if it’s suffering from a terrible loss. I used to hang on to her words. Her breath was mine to take. I just can’t accept the fact that Denise won’t be coming back. Without her, home is never going to be the same again.
“I simply cannot go back there now that it feels like a tomb… cold and empty.”
He bows his head in silent respect for his loss and dusty brown hair flops into tired gray-green eyes hiding stories that were yet to be told.
Not knowing what to say for she was not expecting a grieving response to her rhetorical question, his assistant awkwardly asked if he’ll like a cup of coffee. He nodded, not willing himself to speak anymore.
His heart ached painfully for his beloved.
So he sat alone in the empty office twirling the ring around his finger as if willing his wife to come walking through the door, but it was all in vain.
All grammatical errors are mine.
This short is part of a serial I’m currently working on titled “Sanctimonious”. Jack Payet is one of the main characters that is dealing with a huge loss as you can tell from the story. Did his wife leave him? Did he do something regrettable and is too late to fix it? Is his wife dead? Speculations. Speculations.
I’ll like to say more, but this is a story that my bestie (You guys know Tammy!) is reading whenever I update it and I don’t want to spoil much for her. Also, I simply wanted to write a little angst.
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