Dark

Whenever I need to talk to him, I like to find a dark place. It's much easier to see his face that way. I strain at the darkness, and his face appears, a floating mask real enough to touch. The distance between us closes, and in this moment, I know his thoughts.

Scientists talk about the speed of light, and huge leaps have been made in technology based on transmitting information that is merely a series of light patterns. But what of the darkness? Do they consider this a void that must be transcended? Or is this darkness that which must be penetrated? Is it something solid, something palpable, something real? It has taken centuries for scientists to harness the power of light for their technology, but what do they understand of the dark's mysteries?

I talk to the face in the darkness, to tell him my thoughts, my dreams. I tell him of my love for him. The face hangs there, wavering, but the expression remains the same, like a photograph taken from my memory.

"We are together forever," I say. "As long as we have the darkness, we will be."

I feel the darkness wrap its arms around me. Arms like his but bigger and colder. I inhale the scent of his dark cloak.

I listen to the darkness, but I do not hear him. Tonight, he is silent. "Why do you not speak to me?" I ask. He does not respond. I wait patiently, staring at the ghostly face before me, but the face seems to lie before me as if sleeping. I weep, but he does not speak to me.

This is no good, I think. Why can I not hear him? Why do I only see him lying there, as if sleeping? Why must he do this to me?

This is no good. I have to see him.

In the darkness, I make my way to the cemetery. No one can see me. I am almost there.

There are the graves, both of them. Side by side. He is there, lying next to me. The shirt covers his wound, the one I made that night when he upset me so badly. The night he tried to leave me.

I told him that night, "As long as there is darkness, we will be." There we are. Together forever, see? Beneath the earth. In the dark.

My face is quiet, serene. The long sleeves cover the stitches on my wrists.

"Where are you now?" I ask. "Where did you go? How could you leave me here?"

There is nothing. Only silence. A void. Darkness.