By David Duenas
Sometime passed the time that should have mattered, it doesn’t anymore. Nor the drink or the door that closes behind her. At some point everything has to break. For the sake of sanity and anything that’s real, there needs to be a great crashing, an orchestration of real chaos and destruction to let everyone know that things do end.
Perhaps then it does make sense that the finality of what we hold dear is also the beginning of that which forces us to begin. Around the end of spring Danny realizes this. But it’s too late. There’s been damage. And for a moment, it feels like the rest of life will be recovery.
He notices the moon has a slight limp as it moves along the long since midnight sky. He lights a cigarette. The burning end flares like all memories that will be lost, though the more important ones are those that never were. Things do end. She leaves. Besides the light of the cigarette, he notices the growing flame of the sun rising in the east. The black of night becomes violet, and then blue. And the fool half expects it to stay that way, if the sun matters anything to his heart or mind.
Finally, the cigarette goes out. The sun does not. And that’s how it would be for the rest of his life.