He slides out from under the '67 Mustang and sets the socket wrench aside. Moving to the front of the car he looks under the opened hood, staring through the engine into his memories. His thoughts remembering her face when he brought home this project for them to complete for her sweet sixteen. He picks up an oil soaked rag and mindlessly rubs his hand with it. It's too much remembering for one day. Entering the house, he grabs a bar of soap and walks to the sink. Under the hot water, the lather turns thick and brown as it slides down the drain. He focuses on the bleach white band encircling his ring finger. It seems it may never fade. Sometimes grief is too much and we seek solice from those not suffering. Lives end and lives fall apart.
No comments:
Post a Comment