Millie smiled at me, her eyes drifting between me and the window. She seemed to understand something I didn't...and it bugged me. Of course, she also understood the look in my eyes, so she left without another word. My face fell, the mask dropping to the fake wood floor. I was tempted to grab it up again, retie it the back of my head and sit there looking through the poorly cut eye holes, but I couldn't find the strength to stand. I had been waiting for too long.
It had been...what...twenty years? Thirty maybe? I've lost count. It was probably closer to only ten, but for me it had already been an eternity.
The window was open again that night. I can't remember a time in this house when it hasn't been. I don't know why I kept it open for so long...I just have.
I closed my eyes, sleep tempting me with sweet images long past, but in the end, I just found myself staring at the wall. It was kind of sad, but I saw things on that wall. Memories that plagued me played there infront of my eyes like an old movie I've seen too many times. It was to the point to where I could mouth along, not missing a beat. I retraced the steps in the sand with my finger as it ran across the cool plaster. I outlined your face in the dust clinging to the divider.
"I miss you..." I said aloud for the millionth time. I wanted to say it more. The words echoed in my head every second of ever hour of every day. Between the seconds other words flooded in, such as 'I love you', 'I long for you', and 'I'm still waiting', all of them true.
Somehow, I had this feeling you'd never hear any of them.
For a moment I lingered on the picture that I kept on the dresser. I could see it clearly even in the dull glow of the moons.
And you stared back at me...forever smiling and happy.
It's ironic that's a wanted poster.
Suddenly the glass around the wrinkled paper cracked in the pale moon light, a few glass shards fell onto the table. Panic rose in my chest as I rushed from the chair and grabbed up the frame. More of the glass shattered in my hands and pain filled my arms as it broke around them...but I didn't drop your picture. I held it closer to myself, well knowing blood was falling from my palms. The edges were getting soaked as I held them, but I kept your image pressed against me. I felt so helpless, holding onto a picture of you for dear life.
"Oh Meryl!"
I looked up from my place on the floor, my back pressed up beside the wall, to see Millie just as she made a mad dash for the bathroom. The flow of blood was lessening, with it my hold on consciousness. My vision was failing me fast when my partner finally returned. "Damn...cheap picture frames," I muttered as she forced my hands open to clean my wounds.
"You need to go to bed, Meryl," she said sternly as she dressed my arms in the bandages by her side. "If Mr. Vash comes back and sees you like this, he might not recognize you." For some reason, her words held humor for me. Of course I would recognize you, you never change, but what if you came back when I was old and grey? You might not know me. You might call be grandma or something. Millie must have thought I was a nut as she wrapped me up that night, from all the laughing I was doing.
How about it? Will you remember me?