Ficlets

The engine thrums steadily as I cruise down Main Street, letting the warm air wash over me in waves.

The street lamps give the road and the surrounding humid air a remarkable golden tinge. On the road, there’s nobody behind me. There’s nobody in front of me. For a minute, it is easy to think that I am the only person in the world.

But as I pass by the nursing home, I see one room, illuminated by a hard florescent light. The curtains are not drawn and a white face stares out at me – drawn and crumpled with age and reason, love and dissappointment.

For a second it seems as though our eyes connect – just for an instant, it seems as though she can see me, even through the twilight and almost opaque glow of the light hitting the fog.

I have never met this woman. In fact, I have no idea who she is, or what her story might be. But something about her brings tears to my eyes.

“Goodbye,” I whisper, as my car passes the building, tears pricking my eyes.

And in a way, it feels like I’m saying goodbye to myself.