Where were you?

A moldy and torn photo is held

Between nicotine-stained fingers,

Faces obscured by time,

Emotions, now irrelevant, lost

To milky-white water damage;

And fungus.

Those eyes.

Forgetfulness has always been a bland drug,

As memory invariably shatters the sanctity of;

Peace.

Those eyes.

Lifting the brittle paper closer,

Breathing normally becomes more laboured.

Fragments of silver halides rub loose from a too-firm grip,

Break free,

Waft, unobstructed, on the dusty attic air

To settle on termite-infested pine planks

And those cheap Chinese knock-off Converse Chuck Taylors

Purchased near the train station in Bratislava.

Those eyes.

A window swings open,

Strong-armed by an errant gust of wind.

An unruly twister traces patterns in the dust,

Knocks over an old, and long empty, bottle of Lamb’s Navy Rum.

The sound of glass on wood, then…

… silence.

Those eyes.

Window hinges cackle,

Those eyes.

The pane moves back into place,

Those eyes.

That too-firm grip loosens,

Those eyes.

The photo falls to the floor imperceptibly.

 

A soft yet discordant voice from somewhere beyond the musty darkness squeezes through the nostalgia, caressing an impermeable ear, wiping thoughts from a perpetual retrospective, and forcing breath back into the void with three simple words…

 

“Where were you?”