The Fog

I see her look hopefully at my car, I see her pupils dilate when caught in blinding headlights through the thick fog, and I see her take a deep breath and slowly walk out into the spotlight and open her arms, ready to perform, welcoming the metal beast to her; and when it hits, I see her face turn from a painful grimace to a peaceful smile; I see her eyes lighten and show emotion, something they had not done in years; but as quickly as that light appears, it is taken away, and her eyes cloud over as she stares into the starry void above.

Mary still hasn’t gotten over the actions of her sister, and she still hasn’t forgiven me for not acting. I wake up before her and see the fog that has set in overnight. I desperately run around my house, trying to close all the curtains and shield her from the outside world, but I am too late. She drags herself into the kitchen, makes herself some steaming tea, and just stares out the window. I watch her watch the world, watch her eyes turn to mist, watch her chest rise and fall. “Call into my work and say I’m not coming in,” she whispers monotonically. “What’s the excuse?” I asks her softly. She turns to face me. “It’s foggy today.”


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