| My apologies to Elvis for the use of his beautiful song. A story with photomanipulation and verse. God, you’re so pathetic, Elwood. So stupid. Your heart isn’t broken – far from it. You’ve got good friends, family, a nice girlfriend and a second career promoting the music that you love. The sex is great, even. Sometimes. When you… nope. Don’t go there, man. You’re a lucky bastard, don’t you know that? Sorry, mom. Figure of speech. Why do you feel so empty then? Why does your life feel so shallow and every experience seem incomplete? Why, after all these years, do things still remind you of him? Tonight it was the fucking sword on the fucking wall. You looked at it, and – blam – right in the kisser. Couldn’t even get your hands up to protect yourself. Fucking wuss. Drama queen. You’ve got the perfect life, and you want ice cream with it. Time to grow up, Elwood. Time to put what-might-have-beens behind you. You lean your forehead against the cool glass and look out at the quiet night. And you think about looking for some action, but it’s too much of an effort to move. The street lights filter through the leaves and make shifting patterns on the pavement. Nothing else moves out there. The street is empty, except for an SUV that you’ve seen several times before. You lose yourself in your memories, and you don’t hear the phone ring right away. And when you do, you scramble in the depths of your messenger bag and pray that it won’t stop. The cheesy LotR ringtone that you’ve transferred faithfully from cellphone to cellphone. Ever since he programmed it in for you. The ringtone that belongs to him alone. You hold it in your hand and move back to the window. Somehow you don’t want the dark room around you when you answer it. You want light, and the illusion of space. "Elijah?" You watch the door of the SUV swing open, and a figure emerges, the streetlight glinting on the gold of its hair. It surprises you that you aren’t surprised at all. "Elijah?" Sean. The figure looks up at you and a hand comes up in a familiar half-wave. And the phone in your hand whispers, I miss you. ~~~~~ Once there were two people who had perfect lives. Everyone assumed they were happy, because they had everything that was supposed to matter. But there was a pocket of space to the right of everything that needed to be filled. It was hard for them to understand. There was probably something quantum about it. But whatever. Their empty spaces are filled now, and they aren't lonesome anymore. The End |
| ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT |
