When he told me he was leaving I felt like a
vase which has just smashed. There were pieces
of me all over the tidy, tan tiles. He kept
talking, telling me why he was leaving,
explaining it was for the best, I could do
better, it was his fault and not mine. I had
heard it before many times and yet somehow was
still not immune; perhaps one did not become
immune to such felony. runescape gold
He left and I tried to get on with my life. I
filled the kettle and put it on to boil, I
took out my old red mug and filled it with
coffee watching as each coffee granule slipped
in to the bone china. That was what my life
had been like, endless omissions of coffee
granules, somehow never managing to make that
cup of coffee
Somehow when the kettle piped its finishing
warning I pretended not to hear it. That‘s
what Mike‘s leaving had been like, sudden and
with an awful finality. I would rather just
wallow in uncertainty than have things
finished. I laughed at myself. Imagine getting
all philosophical and sentimental about a mug
of coffee. I must be getting old.
And yet it was a young woman who stared back
at me from the mirror. A young woman full of
promise and hope, a young woman with bright
eyes and full lips just waiting to take on the
world. I never loved Mike anyway. Besides
there are more important things. More
important than love, I insist to myself
firmly. The lid goes back on the coffee just
like closure on the whole Mike experience.
He doesn‘t haunt my dreams as I feared that
night. Instead I am flying far across fields
and woods, looking down on those below me.
Suddenly I fall to the ground and it is only
when I wake up that I realize I was shot by a
hunter, brought down by the burden of not the
bullet but the soul of the man who shot it. I
realize later, with some degree of
understanding, that Mike was the hunter
holding me down and I am the bird that longs
to fly. The next night my dream is similar to
the previous nights, but without the hunter. I
fly free until I meet another bird who flies
with me in perfect harmony. I realize with
some relief that there is a bird out there for
me, there is another person, not necessarily a
lover perhaps just a friend, but there is
someone out there who is my soul mate. I think
about being a broken vase again and realize
that I have glued myself back together, what
Mike has is merely a little part of my time in
earth, a little understanding of my physical
being. He has only, a little piece of me.