Vestiges of Life Before
I loved to be around him. I loved to listen to all of his stories – derived, mostly, from his real or imagined travels to foreign and exotic places. It didn’t really matter to any of us that most of what he said was false – we were captivated.
And yet, it was always something of a relief to me when he left.
It was strange, but I felt keyed up whenever he was around – like the string of a guitar, strung too tightly and liable to snap any second. It was as though, I was constantly holding my breath, and it wasn’t until after he left that I was able to breathe freely again.
It was strange, because he was always laid back. I can’t remember him ever getting monumentally upset over anything.
But, around him, I always felt ready to bolt away at any second. Looking back, even now, I find it hard to pinpoint the exact feeling he stirred within me.
Either way, it was something of a shock to see him. I always thought I had just walked away and left that life behind me.
It was like seeing a ghost.