https://wordpress.com/tag/ragtag-daily-prompt has given us the word ”ink”.
Ink, sinking into my skin, like the ink on the newspaper I write in everyday, surrounds me. Even in my dreams I see Graham. He is disjointed like his features are blurred into some weird abstract art.
I’m missing something, but I still can’t remember the accident.
I don’t have to close my eyes – events evolve around me – I am standing at the kerb, watching us both on the ground. I call his name. Graham, Graham, Graham! Sometimes he answers, tells me something on the wind. Most times I am the one shouting.
I always forget.
Why do I always forget? He wasn’t just my husband. He was my friend; the only person who understood my need for preventing mistakes. Planning everything to the last detail.
‘Sarah, Sarah . . . ‘ Richard brings me back into the room with his quiet manner. ‘Yes, you can go to St Ives. There is nothing more we can do here, but it was the last lead Scott gave us. I’ve been looking in the local newspaper, and they’re hiring for a food critic.’
‘Why the change of heart?’
‘Being here is doing you no good. All we do is go over old evidence, and come up with nothing. Maybe being in a different place, your memory of that night will return.’
I won’t mention about my eye sight.
If I tell him the headaches are getting worse, and there are days when it seems the outline of the world has gone all blurry. He would insist I see a doctor, but I’ve Googled the symptoms. It could be anything, or it could be something. I don’t care. All I care about is retrieving my memories and remembering the person there that night.
St Ives would be a step in the right direction. I’ll be okay. My German Shephard hasn’t left my side since the accident.
I trust him with my life.