Letters To Euturpe #62 – Liminal

He stood in the doorway of what used to be his kitchen.
She sat on a chair at what used to be their table.
Her eyes were downcast.
Her voice was silent.
Treads of tears stained her face.

He entered what used to be his kitchen.
Now it was just hers.
He walked over to what used to be their table.
He stopped beside her.
And he felt lost.

Lost for words.
Lost for deeds.
Lost for ways
For her to see him, hear him, touch him
One more time.

He smiled.
It was a challenge.
And challenges had always been his thing.
When her life and his life were combined
Into their life.

He would not back down from this challenge.

He stretched his hand forward.
Worried that she wouldn’t feel it.
Worried that she’d slap it away.
Worried that she wouldn’t know it was real.

His hand landed on her arm.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t raise her head.
She didn’t react at all.

He pulled his hand away.
She raised her head.
She glanced around.

He said her name
It was just a whisper.
It was liminal.
It was barely perceptible.

He said her name again
And sang it like it was his favorite song.
He sang it as she sat.
Alone at her table.
In what was now her kitchen.

He sang it all the day.
And she listened to its melody.
With tears in her eyes.
And a smile on her mouth.