It’s been a long fight hasn’t it? I still remember the first time you came. You didn’t saunter in. You didn’t even announce your presence. I had my back turned towards the door, I was looking out the window-trying to find the perfect moment to get swept away in the whirlwind of life. I had left the door open from my last visitor who finally got tired of throwing things around, who decided to leave when I was no longer the perfect puppet. I had just never turned around to close it.
And in you crept.
And even then, for the longest time I thought that the shadows that made their way across the floor was just the remains of the sun setting. And when the sun didn’t rise again, I thought the only thing wrong in the room was my lack of vision. Or else, surely, it must have been a hallucination. Because the sun had risen, I just couldn’t see it, right? And when the shadow fell over the trees, and I could no longer feel the warm breeze on my cheek, I still didn’t check to see if something was wrong. It’s just one of those days. The wind doesn’t feel like blowing today. Doesn’t feel like lifting me up and twirling me around. That’s okay. It’s just a few hours, right?
Just a few days?
Just a few weeks?
Just a few months?
And I only turned around when there was a chill in the room. When I thought that the draft must be coming from the door and obviously not from the open window and so I had decided to close it before it got even colder.
And you announced yourself.
At first, I thought you were just another one of my guests. Completely black, sweeping away everything in your path with one swift draw of your cloak. Maybe it was just another hallucination? How long had we stood there, staring at each other? Waiting for one to make the first move? To start this torturous game?