The crisp, earthly scent of grass pervades the thick air hanging in silence after the last droplets of rain. A young man with a nicely angled jaw, pleasant features framed in thick black locks, blissful in his gait, smiles kindly approaching her. His arm reaches down to ruffle the hair on the bobbing heads at his side and guides them along as they toddle in her direction. She allows herself on her knees, nevermind the soiled trousers, greeting them with the warmest smile she can muster and picks one of them – his little boy – up. Hello there. The notable resemblance is not surprising, she reminds herself, yet what she sees when shuttling her gaze back and forth of them hints at the truth she has chosen to disregard all these while. Your mother must be beautiful, she muses.

A grey melody begins to nudge at the happy picture, from the way its low, solid and unusually soothing notes – like the cold of the rain amplified auditorially – are slipping into place so much so it’s coming off like a requiem. Melancholy spells the loss of a love that exists nowhere beyond her subconscious, is never made known and will never be for a lifetime. For a moment she observes him toying his silver ring fitted snugly on his long finger, his scintillating eyes now softened to expressive orbs.

Her hug on the boy tightens – dry lips alike – returning the man’s smile as he looks up. And that is when she lets herself drown in the sorrowful tune, wills the twinge of pain to go unnoticed and, exhales unsteadily into the comfort of the pillow, albeit slightly damp.

tbc..