This grey absence

Hannah has died. I do not know exactly when nor precisely how. But Hannah has died. Now there is this vague and grey absence where she had been before. No more her funny and irregular movement, no more her paused walk along the house, no more her eager eyes towards my direction and my presence whenever I arrived, sometimes late at night, most of the time alone, but she knew I would be back. I also knew I would find her. For there she would be, waiting for me. I still remember how we first me, so early in the morning, in a rush going to that weird Saturday morning French class. Why has she actually left? Why wasn’t I able to keep her by my side? Hannah has died and it rains tonight. Still, there is this empy space in the living room and I hear her acute voice calling out my unknown name.


~ by nossosombros on March 22, 2009.

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