Disclaimer: I own zip, nada, nothing.

This just might fall under the category of too- short and plot-less emotion. Beware.


Is this story a story of love and how it always goes away?

Is this a story of time and how it always moves in one direction?

Or is this the story of an artist whose greatest loss came from sudden self-consciousness or impatience?

Metamorphoses, Mary Zimmerman


Lament


The pencil in her hand moved whimsically to the left, then languidly to the right. Hesitantly, it traveled up the page and rapidly, fell down. She did not know what she was drawing and she did not know what willed her hand to move so dream-like. It could have been the music, lethargically humming in the background, playing from the old cassette tape she had found in an abandoned box in her closet labeled "mom". It could have been the rain, its own rhythm in tune with the slow but moving beats of the lullaby.

Or it could have been the fact that he was gone. His presence emptied the room the way one looked after the furniture had been removed, after all the pieces were taken away. There was so much space, so much air to breathe and it looked so vast to her purple eyes. So she pulled herself into the closet where the air did not drown her in its quantity, where she could become part of the darkness. Where there was no longer any light, no longer the haunting shadow of remembrance.

She pulled the box from the undergrowth of clothes and did not bother to brush the collecting dust from its surface. She swallowed, and then opened the box she knew she was not supposed to find. Inside, her fingers traced against patterns of a badge, a piece of soft cloth, crayons, papers, and the old cassette tape labeled "mom". She handled the cassette tape with the utmost care and fed it to the mouth of the radio, clicking it shut, and pressing play. Maybe the music would veil the rain. Maybe the music would color the darkness. Maybe it could slow time.

Maybe.

So she took the crayon in her hand and began to draw something she did not know.


Uncertain, gentle, and without impatience


END


so, this was just a quickie because I miss bleach OH SO MUCH! and there's a lack of ichirukiness these days... I feel like all the amazingness just kind of left. BUT. I really hope you liked it and it made sense... -ahem- ichigo's gone (to who knows where) then Rukia is... rukia and locks herself in darkness.. -cries- The quotes come from a part in the play "Orpheus and Eurydice" and their story is so sad.

Please Review!