wrench

it is a dilapidated house. you take stock of your surroundings and spot broken blinds in a dingy room. walking further out and you find yourself in a hollow and closed-in corridor with floorboards that seem to creak with every other step.

you can hear the children, their hushed and hurried voices carrying through another room over.

suddenly, you look down and see an emaciated young girl with neat pigtails clashing shockingly with her overall drab disposition; she pulls at your hand. her eyes plead with you to come with, so you give in and let her lead you.

this is the entertainment room, she says, even if there was barely anything that could be considered relatively entertaining in that room. littering the room are torn-up curtains, couches and chairs with their upholstery and springs spilling out like guts. you look up and squint your eyes at the rain patches on the ceilings, and the cracked wallpapers fluttering limply in the drafty room.

tucked in one corner of the room is a man. he is tall and lean, with strips of his clothing hanging off of his frame. he’s hunched over on the table in front of him. the children are huddled around him, and one by one he tries to scare them albeit unsuccessfully. there is an empty, faraway look in the children’s eyes that is more terrifying than what he is attempting to do.

the girl holding onto your hand moves to stand in front of the man. she pushes herself back against your chest as he playfully lunges at her. you try to soothe her, caressing the top of her head with a hand and rubbing her shoulder with the other.

you look at the man. i know him, you think to yourself. and he knows me, too.

bending down to her height, you explain to the girl that he is a good man. he’s not going to hurt her. she looks up at you with a dull shine to her eyes, and then walks away without a word.

with the little girl gone, you conjure up a chair and sit before the man. you start talking. and find out that you are each other’s. he looks much different now, you think. but it is, without doubt, him.

in this world, you have become separated. but you have finally found each other. he is older, and so are you. in another lifetime you are your much younger selves, and together.

the room brightens, but not enough to make much of a difference. your heart thumps in your chest with something resembling relief, as the white noise inside your head quietens.

you steal another glance at him, probing his eyes for answers. and you find them.

boldly, taking hold of his arm, you pull him towards the children. they are preoccupied with nothing so you try to get their attention.

he has to leave now, you say. but we can’t let that make us sad.

the man’s hand shoots out to take yours and helpless against it, you let him hold it. he holds on tight and squeezes, resolute. he shakes his head at you once.

i don’t have to be anywhere where you aren’t. decidedly, he slides his hand down your arm and twines your fingers. no more letting go.

and then, i’m staying here with you. i don’t have to leave.

you are bursting to full with astonishment, hope, admiration, joy, love. think to yourself, finally someone who isn’t going to leave.

the floorboards creak and the walls groan in gratitude.

you smile up at him, and he returns it.