Her expectations trashed as her hands were covered in what was the beginning of evidences. She rushes to wash off the mess. The tub began to fill with stained water as she hurried to clean. Her clothes stained and the subject of her crime covered in filth. She had time left on the clock, she could patiently get rid of all of it. She composed herself. The excess mess showered, she then moved to the sink where she patiently washed away the weapon, singing to calm her nerves. Once the stains were removed, she confronted the tub. The filth had drained away. All that remained was to soothe the crying child. So we find on the scene a filthy diaper tossed in a corner, a teething child with diarrhea and his mother the true victim.
Our special time approaches and your scent fills me with expectation. I hear your voice at a distance and look for you among the crowd. My eyes are ever fixed on you. You look at your watch, approach me and hold me. You place my hand in yours and sweetly caress my cheeks. I am lost in your embrace. My heart grows heavy when other things interrupt our time. The times you play with your phone, eat or talk to someone else enrage me. I push away in disgust. This is our time, not anyone else’s or for anything else. When I feel your loving gaze, then I can rest once more on your bosom. I don’t ask for much but your devoted attention and the warm milk you alone can provide.
An electronic device, specifically designed to enhance her lifestyle and way of living, leaves its user angry and apprehensive. The expense of it does not appeal to high society, but increases her distaste for it. Though no one can see it, she clearly can. The only focus on her mind, that drowns all other thoughts is that she needs it. Her independence interrupted, her youthful appearance challenged by it. Her vibrant beauty and youth have not changed. She still uplifts broken hearts and arms the weak. The only small change she has made was wearing her hearing aid.
How much do you love it or yearn for it? The cold from your clothes shift to a wet warmth. Drops of morning dew do not refresh the sticky soul. Every breath opens pores as they seek relief. Your thoughts pour like drops of sweat asking again, “is it worth it?” You press through and persevere hoping the reward would be more than fitting the sacrifice. You pass the point of no return, where if you do not try, time was lost. Then you relax at the first embrace of air. You feel that cool breeze that steals away the sting of heat and the deep silence above no one knows of but the summer pilot.