The Conversation

Excusing herself with a fake laundry errand, she stops behind the door. When she hears him speak, she lifts the kitchen extension gently from its holder. One hand cups the mouthpiece and she listens. The voice she once loved, now coarse to her ear as she hears him laugh with this other woman. How strange it feels to finally hear the other voice, to suddenly have all suspicions confirmed. She does not speak into the phone, just stands listening, eyes brimming in defeat. Each phrase spoken becomes a needle of ice stabbing coldness into her sinking heart. With each sentence another piece of her life cracks and breaks. Hopes and dreams fall carelessly away as she twists the band of gold from her third finger letting it drop onto the washing machine with a small metallic clang. Finally, the conversation ends, she listens as the receivers are put down then, with knuckles white from clenching she lifts a determined hand wiping away salty tears, and with them an era ends. She puts down the phone and goes upstairs to pack. (first published in Eclipse)While not exactly a true story, it was inspired by something that happened to my sister. All comments/criticism most welcome. Written November 24th, 2001 © on Nov 23 2001 10:35 PM PST   0 • 1