Picture from the Evening Standard
© Kelvin M. Knight, 2019
Everything blurs as they rush by. If only they would stop and look, really look. But, no, all they’re interested in is that world clasped in their hands. Why can’t they stop and see the end of the world cupped in mine?
Grief thickens my soul. I know this emotion now. I know all emotions now. I wish I didn’t. I wish things would go back to how they were before: blissful and beautiful. Why oh why didn’t I consider the consequences of my actions? There is no way back from this, no way whatsoever.
It’s her fault. It’s always been her fault.
It’s my fault. It has always been my fault.
Regret ravages me. Despair distends me. I… we… have lost everything. Everything.
A child stops and stares. Finger pointing at me, she asks innocently, ‘Hey Mommy, why’s that sulking cat got a rotten apple core in its paws?’
The above story was written in response to the What Pegman Saw prompt, which this week took us to:
You are warmly invited to the Inlinkz link party to read other globetrotting contributors’ stories inspired by this week’s prompt.