Thursday, 6 January 2011

Ghosts (ii)

I had forgotten you.

You disappeared through the door where I send things which don’t matter, banish those which do. But here you are, on my desk. I didn’t invite you, but one click of the computer’s mischievous mouse and you appeared, smouldering on my screen, eyes alight with reproach. I flinch.

I study your picture and it seems to me that you must have spent your whole life choosing this pose. How many snaps did you reject before the photographer finally caught that precise flash in your eyes, that artful fall of your curls, and your perfect expression laden with intrigue.

I look at your picture for as long as I dare, until your eyes scorch me. You’re doing well, I see, so it says, but I don’t delve. I don’t want you to know I was looking at you. I don’t want you to think of me at all.

I click again, and you disappear. If only it had always been that simple.

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