the dark man cometh

On a dark cherry wood desk lay an ashtray with a smoldering cigarette. The fragrant tobacco smoke was tinged with a slight bitterness. He was immersed deep in his thoughts, his eyes cast unseeing towards the twinkling city lights beneath him. A tiny spark of light lit his eyes has his ears heard the whisper soft strains of Yiruma's song Love Me wafted through the air; the spark died as quickly as it came.


His thoughts turned back to her. They havent talked nor seen each other for 8 months now. He stood from his desk and walked to the floor to ceiling window that graced his office. He lay his hand against the glass pane that separated him from a 50 storey plunge. The cool glass reminded him that he still had warmth in him.; that he was still remotely human. Minutes passed unknowingly, as he stood there gazing down at the city that was filled with a vast sea of faces that made him feel his loneliness further.


As he walked back to his desk he saw something glitter in the dark corner underneath his desk. He stooped down to pick it up and saw that it was the letter opener that she gave to him from their last trip to Singapore. The blade on the letter opener was sharp enough to leave a shallow slice on his forefinger when he ran his finger lightly on its cutting edge. His right hand gripped the handle as he turned his left arm over...


.-=*v*=-.


She was sitting on the shore, watching the sunset on another day. Her bright brown eyes drank in the slow transition from a Rembrandt sky to the bold colors of sunset. The cool ocean breeze made a rat's nest of her long hair; but she didnt mind. She rarely had the pleasure of taking in peace for herself. In her life, it was always about work, her family, and as of late, her friends. She was their towerblock. It wasnt that she minded being someone people leaned on, but lately, it had been more of a task borne out of obligation, instead of pleasure brought by love.


The sand between her toes reminded her of him.


Of the odd conversations that they had which made sense only to them.


"If you were a super hero, and you had to choose between the ability to fly but can only be two feet off the ground OR the ability to become invisible, but when youre invisible youre going to be blind as a bat, what would you choose?"


"If Hitler didnt have his moustache, would he be less popular?"


"If you only had three pieces of hair on your head, would they be clumped together? or in three separate places?"


"Who do you think is more of a sidekick amterial, Aquaman or Robin?"


The snippets of these past conversations ran through her mind, briging a ghost of a smile to her eyes.


Then her mobile phone rang.


She reached out to the pouch beside her and answered the call. Seconds after she aswered her mobile phone, all the color from her face was drained; her hand shook as she ended the call, she stood up from the blanket and ran to her car.


'-=. . .=-'


He's dead.


Those two words kept echoing in her head as she hurtled down the highway, uncaring if the speed limit was 60. She drove as if Hell's very own hounds were chasing her. She needed to see for herself that he was really gone.


When she reached the hospital parking lot, she parked haphazardly near the ER entrance and ran to the nearest nursing station. As she ran through the cool halls of the hospital, the antiseptic smell reminded her that this is where people lived and died. She reached the waiting room and saw all their friends; their faces reflecting varying states of shock and grief. She felt as if time suddenly became as molasses being sucked up a soda straw. Each step that she took felt like eternity.


She sat beside one of their friends and buried her face in her hands. How many minutes passed, she didnt know, but when she felt a warm weight settle gently on her shoulder, she raised her head and saw him. Her knees trembled like the last leaves on an autumn tree, as she stood up.


.-=***=-.


He saw various emotions flash through her eyes when she saw him. The same emotions that ran through her when they last spoke. A fine trembling was running through his body as they stood there and hugged each other.


"I can believe Charles is gone" she whispered.


"His mom says he died in his sleep. Days after we last spoke, his mom called me up and told me that the hospital was sending him home because his cancer was already terminal and they couldnt do anything about it anymore." he said as he laid his forehead gently on her forehead.


"Why didnt you tell me?" she asked.


"Im sorry, but it wasnt for me to say. His mom didnt want anyone to know, but she told me because i was his bestfriend. I also didnt think that you would talk to me after what happened to us 8 months ago." He then sat down on one of the couches in the waiting room. His arms around her, her arms around his; sharing the burden of grief that have been given to them.