Friday, 9 January 2009

My Head is Full of Nothing

Title by Anonymous
Story by j.f. hawkins

“I woke up really late last night, to try and see if there was a story, but when I turned on the light, there was nothing”

I recall it exactly.

I was standing in the building and looking down stairs that lead to the main entrance. At the end of a long gray road, past the small crowd I seam to have generated…. there she was.

Caught in a moment of time, somewhere between summer and autumn, on the cusp of an end and at the start of a beginning. There she was. Standing just as casual as the suburban lane that brought her.

That’s how it was the first time I saw her, and how she reappears to me in a dream. Each time we meet, it’s like I still see her for the first time.

She was foreign and unfamiliar, but there was a sense of always having known her. She’s an old friend already. Even though every time is new. "We click", she said while doing a kind of dance.

I asked her if she needed a lift from the place we were at. Unfortunately, for her, I only had my bike. Still, she was happy to ride it with me.

I can’t know how she felt about the journey, but the way I recall it, it was perfect. Her little hands wrapped around my waist. It was cold out side, so to escape the wind, she buried her face into my back. She spoke and then giggled, I haven’t a clue what she said, all I knew was that her little voice boomed inside my ears. I was worried she’d hear my racing heart.

I dropped her at the station and I kissed her on the cheek. It was such an awkward goodbye because I wanted to stay longer. All our goodbyes are awkward because I never wanted to say them.

We spoke on the phone. I asked her where she was, she said ‘in the bath’, we talked.

My head is full of nothing.

jf. x