Member-only story
What Was Once Good
The morning after was quiet.
Too quiet. Nothing like what she was used to. There were no children crying and the usual hum of humanity appeared to have dimmed to inaudible levels. Even the evasive cricket that lived somewhere in the back of the plywood wardrobe in the corner of her room was quiet today. It was dawning and the greys and powder blues bathed the whole room in a fuzzy ambience. It wrapped its tones around the pillows and sheets which were scattered all over the floor beside a shoe rack that had been pulled down from its wall bracket.
Asa sat up languidly, her feet trying to find place amidst the chaos on the floor. All her joints ached, especially the wrists of her right hand. She felt that the arc of her brows had swollen to twice its size — her head felt too heavy as she walked over to the window and her heavy eyes called out silently to the waking neighbourhood. The dry early morning winds of November blew against her matted hair. She held her robe closer and walked back indoors. On a wall above a shattered TV hung a picture gathering dust. In it they were smiling, locked into a distant past and looking into each other’s eyes. She still had her innocence and her dimples and he still had the light in his eyes.
Three years, four months and a couple of days — that was how long it had taken Time to end their happily ever after. She wondered where…
