Light and Dark
I knew the sound of her car’s engine. I remember I would listen out for it, then look down on to the street and watch her park; light headed with the anticipation of seeing her, holding her.
This town seemed bigger then. We ate and drank, laughed and danced; lived in every moment, enjoyed each other and all our possibilities. I was happy in a way I’ve never been, released of all doubt and fear.
Now she’s gone, and everything in this place seems quiet, cold and lifeless. I’m afraid that I have given too much of myself away to start again—and I’m afraid that I’ll never want to.
Hi, my name's Mark. I'm trying to come up with some ideas for a book. Think of this as my online writing notebook: ideas, stories, beginnings, endings. Things that just pop into my mind. I'm also on Twitter as @markeebee.
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