A/N Hey everyone who's reading this! I'm writing this because of the dire need of Big Fish fanfiction :) I hope you like it! (Besides, Jenny's my favourite character and I think she needs some attention!)
Her chair creaked; cats meowed insistently around her feet, seeking attention.
Spectre.
How else could she describe it?
Sun glowed, as always, illuminating what remained of her home. Almost allegorical to how her heart felt, waiting for someone to return who she knew never would.
Spectre was a ghost of a town. It used to hold so much life and colour; it had become only the outline of the town it once was.
Of course, she thought of him every day. Undoubtedly, she would think of him until the day she died. He had shown her an unsatisfying glimpse of life outside Spectre. Life with travel and shoes. Life where not everything was laid out for you; you had to construct your own path.
Her entire life, she had been waiting for him. Even when she got married, her mind kept comparing her husband to him. And in the back of her mind there was the doubt that she could stay faithful to her husband if he did return. She wasn't certain that her heart wouldn't sway back to him.
When she went to rise from her chair she mentally reprimanded herself for doing it so fast. Her back ached, reminding her of just how old she was getting.
She was positive that she would never find love again. Somehow, however, getting old and being alone wasn't as unbearable as she had thought it would be when she was young.
In her mind, it was a kind of reconciliation. Once she knew for certain that there was no reason for Edward to come back, she stopped hoping.
However, a part of her still couldn't believe that he was gone. She couldn't picture him as anything other than the exuberant man he had once been when he first saw Spectre.
It was almost as if with Spectre's demise, it had been his, too. At his funeral, she couldn't see her Edward at all in the fragile old man who lay in front of her.
She laughed quietly at how intellectual she had become. Living by herself in the silence of the town, she had a lot of time to think.
She sat down in front of the piano, her favourite piece of furniture in the entire house. She spent nearly all of her time in front of it. Sometimes, she would go through her old hymnals to find upbeat gospel songs to play. More commonly, she would try to make classical pieces loud enough to drown out the silence surrounding her.
She placed her hands on the keys, feeling the smooth wood beneath them. She noticed that her fingers were beginning to look as worn as the keys, and this made her feel the tiniest bit sad.
To wash away any feeling of sadness, she played a single note, a high F.
With gusto, she played some chords, moving them around to make noise. She wanted a lot of noise. Even her cats were getting to her, and her cats were her solace.
She continued playing around with the notes for hours, although she couldn't remember how long it had been since she first sat down.
To her, time wasn't important. She felt as though she had all the time in the world.
Her song swooped into a loud, exciting forte. She allowed it to become minor, leaving her major feelings behind, as the sun began to set. The emotion in her song enveloped her, and she started to feel sadder and sadder.
Edward.
He was her inspiration.
Suddenly, she burst into tears. She let her head rest against the piano, the sharps and flats clashing together in a noise that sounded ugly and foreign to the beautiful music she had been creating.
Still sobbing, she felt a soft paw reach out and press against her forehead.
Smiling, she looked up. Her grey kitten was staring down at her, his emerald eyes inquisitive. He only wanted to play.
"I'm okay, Bloom." She muttered, stroking his head and batting the newspaper ball across the top of the piano. He scampered after it, looking happy.
She placed her hands back on the keys, and pounded the happy, major chords back into the still air. It was getting cold in the room, but she didn't care. She continued playing until it escalated into more beautiful music.
Again, Edward's face flashed into her head. It wasn't how she had last seen him, however. It was when she had first seen him, when he had embodied the life of Spectre.
Happiness filled her again. She almost felt like that little girl she had once been, who had thrown the stranger's shoes over the line; joyful, free.