Tuesday 3 March 2009

Grief.

Everything with her was larger than life itself. When she was happy, her face glowed, her big, big smile shone with all her teeth. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were round, and she jumped, she laughed, she sang, she danced. When she was angry her brows would knit together, her lips would purse, her nostrils flare. The blood rushed to her face, her eyes narrowed, and her voice crescendoed. She waved her arms wildly in the air, she screamed. And when she was sad, she became so small, arms and legs retracted, but bawling. Wailing and crying and lamenting, like she was being torn apart by pain. Shaking and rocking backwards and forwards, gasping for breath.
She was slouching on a chair, and for all anyone knew there was nothing wrong. She wasn't saying much, but then again everyone was speaking at the same time, they would hardly have noticed. She wasn't moving, and her eyes were fixed on one single point in front of her. When she talked about it she spoke without feeling. Her sentences were matter of fact, her voice at normal volume. But everything about her was so lifeless - as if she was dying in solidarity.

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