Grief

My first foray into Flash Fiction and the first story I have written since high school. Eek, here goes.

'Emma', a quiet voice asked. 'Do you ever get sick of the grief?' A pause, loaded with everything. 'Yes.' The struggle to get back to indifference is palatable.

'I see people, old people, walking around holding..' She couldn't finish. Digging deep for cynicism she gives a little laugh. 'OK, it could be a second, third, whatever marriage. But I..' Again unable to finish.

They carried on pretending to work for a moment or two, both silent with their sadnesses. 'This was supposed to be the easier time of my life.' Dark eyes clouded with sorrow. 'The kids are old enough to take of themselves, we are meant to be planning weekends away and nights out.' Ruefully she says 'Instead we are living like this.'

The quiet voice said 'I miss my husband.' The thousand things that made her fall in love with him slide through her brain. Her heart catches for a moment: that beautiful face, those strong hands. Throat tight. Don't give in to the words begging to be spoken.

Emma speaks 'I get homesick.' Swallowing down her own words. 'Not because I want to go back there. But that's where everything was good.' Eyes cast to a distant time. 'There's nothing there for me to go back to.'

'I hate depression.' With a sigh of agreement Emma nods. Both masks are firmly back in place.