by Mary V. Kolar

“It isn't fair,” she raged throwing the newspaper against the wall.  The pages flew with aimless abandon as though they were celebrating their sudden freedom.

Grief stood silently watching her tirade.  She, of course, couldn't see him as He stood there with his mournful eyes and stooped shoulders.

She fell into the armchair that her fiancé usually sat in.  His scent was there.  She leaned sideways inhaling.

“You idiot.  How could you?  How could you?”  She saw the beer stein they purchased together on a trip to Wisconsin.  It had been a great time wandering around the small town ending up in a thrift store that sold a variety of remnants from other peoples lives that no longer valued the objects they had been touching.  The carved wood handkerchief box, the porcelain tea set with the one chipped saucer, the antique blocks with their colorful raised letters, A and Z being missing, and the beer stein.  It was missing its attached lid.  The picture of the Alps is what attracted Zeke to it.  It was heavy and fit his big hand comfortably.  She'd bought the antique blocks and he'd bought the mug.  She cradled the mug and then it too flew across the room exploding against the opposite wall.

“Beer!  Beer!  Always beer you adolescent moron.  Yeah, have another drink and another and another.  Show the boys who the big man is.  Be a real macho man and show them who can drink the most.  Jerk. You stupid insensitive jerk.  What about me?  What about us?”

Allison put her hands over her head pressing upon it.  Any moment she thought it might explode leaving her empty--empty and alone like she now was.  Anger looked concerned.  He'd been drinking up her homage to him, and it seemed to be wavering.  Grief grinned sadly as he watched her walk slowly back to the newspaper.

She picked it up and read the headline again:  Drunken driver dies in rollover accident on Route 4.  The picture showed Zeke’s Jeep.  He had the inside upholstered in a horrible zebra print.  They showed a body on the side of the road and his new work boot peeked out from under the blanket. 

She went cold inside.  Numb.  Anger prodded her once but she didn't respond.  She was feeling nothing.  Not weeping, not angry, not even grieving.  Shut down. 

Anger began to spasm.  He needed fuel.  He would dissipate without it.  Grief backed slowly out of the room.  Anger tried desperately once more to prod her into reacting but there was no response.  As grief fell further and further away, Anger felt torn.

Finally, Grief was out of the room completely and Anger began to fade.  It was a slow process like walking through a small hallway with hundreds of sharp spikes protruding from the walls.  It hurt him.  Anger suffered as grief withdrew.

Allison fell into a quiet sleep back in Zeke's chair his scent soothing her. 
She closed her eyes and fell into a mindless trance walling herself in.

Anger made one more attempt and then faded away and Allison was left feeling totally alone.  Despair entered the room and made himself comfortable.  He intended to be there for a while.  Only Acceptance would cause him to vacate her presence and he knew that was a long way off.  He put his feet up and relaxed.  She was all his for the time being and that was just fine by him.  She sobbed a little in her sleep and he smiled.  Yes, he could live off her for quite some time.  Her week-old diamond engagement ring glimmered slightly as she moved her hand away from the devastating headline.  Despair hummed a bit - - content.

Mary began writing seriously since she hit the hallmark age of fifty.  Having no background in writing, she worked diligently at perfecting her craft, and has met with good success as many of her stories have been published.  You can learn more about her writing endeavors at   Contact Mary.
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