The Silence
The heavy chintz curtains had been drawn against the encroaching night. The pot of hot chocolate stood on its tray waiting to be poured into the china tea cup at her right elbow. The only sound was the grandfather clock ticking away the seconds and minutes against the far wall. Still she stared into nothing. The maid withdrew silently, knowing that disturbing her mistress would yield no answers. She sometimes got like this, did the mistress. The elderly lady in the comfortable chair did not hear the sound of the door closing softly. Her eyes and mind were far away, far away in the past.
She saw his soft brown eyes, mirroring her own love, and the feel of his kisses as they fought the knowledge that they could never be.
"Take care," she heard herself say, yet what she wanted was to beg him not to go.
"I will," he turned around, trying to keep her in his line of sight for as long as he could, running backwards. "I'll be back soon, Jane, it'll be over by Christmas!" He tried to inject some hope into the futile situation.
"Come back to me," she begged, tears falling freely. "Come back to me!"
The woman in the comfortable chair closed her eyes. Time could never rob memories, and the memory of the last time she ever saw him was one she cherished right next to her heart.