The Fall
Josephine Pasquarelli
S he looked out the window through the morning fog. The leaves lay in piles of gold and orange. Strange, bright colors for things that were dead and dying. The cup of coffee she held to her lips was cold now but she barely noticed. She had sat there staring until the fog had lifted and the sun filtered through the trees in long bright strands. How could the sun still shine? The reaches of her heart were dark and cold and no more light would enter there. She managed to move from the chair to the door.
"I'll check the mail." she thought, but she had no idea why. The sympathy cards had dwindled to nothing and her box now contained nothing but junk mail and bills.
Her feet made hollow sounds on the apartment stairs and the fly that landed on her eyebrow was surprised that no one bothered to swat it away.
She stood poised in front of the mailbox, key in hand, forgetting why she was there for a moment, as something caught her eye. Pooled under the mailboxes were flyers for a circus. Lauren had loved the circus. With big heaving sobs she fell to the floor. How could the death of one so young make one feel so old.



First published: October 1997
comments: knobs@iceflow.com