Tuesday, 22 September 2009
The Absence Of Glass
Before anyone else is awake, he goes to the window and takes in a first breath of the day outside. The space for traffic is still unfilled, and the only sounds are the chatter of starlings and the hum of bees. On a bed in the next room, a girl stirs and bats imaginary flies in her sleep. He leans out into the morning, feeling the warm rush of August air on his face. He remembers the dot-to-dots he made from her freckles, the spirals and flowers and creatures he drew across her arms and legs, and wishes he’d taken a photograph.