John sees certain things and imagines the what-might-have-beens. May or may not become a series of such vignettes.


What He Sees

There is a sunset he did not see. He should have seen it. Could've seen it too, if he had thought about it. This is what John thinks as he looks out of the window of 221B Baker Street and faces the fiery red sunset. Narrowing his eyes in the brilliant light, he tries to remember what he sees in this summer evening, tries to engrave in his memory the last evening he is spending in their flat. 'They' are no more and only he himself remains. It is only natural that their flat is no more and he leaves this place. But he does not want to forget it. He will not try to 'delete' anything though it be painful. John has made a conscious decision to hold on to everything and more. So he regards the sunset for a while longer. Then he resumes packing.

The sunset. Yes. Everything becomes crystal clear only when it is too late to do anything about it.

They should have spent an evening on the roof. Watching their beloved city bathed in red. Just having a moment away from reality, putting their mind and body on hold. Wine could join them if it wants to. Violin, perhaps, though it would need to solemnly swear that it will be agreeable and pleasant before admitted. No - such trappings wouldn't be necessary. May even be too much. If only they had spent an evening like that, simply sitting there, just for those few minutes before the sun finished its descent and the night covered everything. That would have been nice, very nice indeed. To have sat there in that transient time and just regard the sunset and Sher- him. In different lights. Just being themselves.

John can even picture it in his head, using the sunset he just witnessed as a reference. Everything bright and fierce and intense, and his friend and himself a part of such scenery. He can even see how the light would dye his friends' shirt. How it would make his friend's curls shimmer. As to those blue eyes - something sharp strikes his heart. No, he will not think of those eyes. A bit early for that. Later perhaps, maybe later he will be able to picture it properly.

Once upon a time they watched a sunset together on the roof of 221B Baker Street. They simply sat there, side by side as they tend to do, secure in the way they are, what they are to each other, always them facing the world together, from the moment they met that's the way it was, saying nothing, watching the changing sky and the sun going down and the dark coming up, all the while the city bustling, never stopping, and the earth turning, the time running, yet two of them there unmoved, in their spot, their origin.