Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

She’s gone.

What now?

I stare out of the window of the apartment I bought for her, overlooking the harbour with its yachts and pleasure boats, ice-cream kiosks and artsy-craftsy shops. Sunshine glints outside on the water, gleams on fresh paint, blue and white, and on polished timber decks, then spills into the room. But there’s no warmth in it. Tugging my jacket around me, I hiss as pain stabs through my hand. Gashed flesh swollen and heated, seeps blood.

I should dress it…

Later…

I thought I had it.

I thought I had her.

I really did.

It’s so cold.

Walking through to the kitchen, I limp a little where my ankle twisted as I fell…

Would he really have run me down?

… then clumsily, working with one hand, I make coffee, splashing in a hefty measure of whiskey, then more until the cup teeters on overflowing.

You had me fooled, Larry. You really had me going. When you left, I was coming to see you… and then I saw them…

Returning with the drink to stand in the scant heat of the sunshine, I watch holidaymakers and tourists going about their moronic activities. Hot alcohol and caffeine sear a trail down my throat but still, there’s no warmth inside me.

She was coming to see me…

Coming to say she’d be with me…

Shivering, I drain the dregs.

Bitter as bile, churning and toxic, regret wells up inside me…

Enfolds me in its harsh embrace…

Overwhelms me…

There’s not enough air. Pain draws a band around my chest, tighter; ever tighter.

Dropping to my knees, I cover my face.

Hide from the world…

Is this all there is?

Hide from myself…

She ran to him…

me and to

Conners...

something flickers; a flame fanning up to

… Lighting the darkness.

the air until my head clears and I'm able to stand. Using the window ledge to

something brushes against them;

?

stiff and swollen, I pull out the strange object. A butterfly dangles from its chain,

How…?

?

?

grazing her skin… snagging on something which strains and pops to dangle from

fingers

She was wearing it.

His gift…

Fists clenching, the pain lances through me, waking me, making me feel

Conners.

*****

James

in his hand. Richard

we

want a repeat of last time; going all the way there to find nothing but a car park and a supermarket. It would break her

not planning on knocking

right. But I want to check at

“Fair enough.”

*****

Michael

A classic city edge…

a careful hand, printed capitals, it is quite clear. This

looks occupied. No lights are on and there is no sign of movement, but paintwork is

can bring

*****

Charlotte

against the vehicle, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle. My Master paces up and down a little, then settles, watching as

on at a downstairs window; movement inside, shapes

move. My feet drag. My heart flutters and

Enough already…

rap smartly on the door. It

What if she answers?

Will I recognise her?

know

a shuffle, the click of a turning lock, the clunk of a bolt being drawn back, then the

face. A young man, perhaps thirty. He’s good-looking in an unremarkable

looking for

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