Ghosts Don't Cry

I always write in third person when the floodgates open. Sigh. One of those times when I get cosmically sentimental.

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It was a little over 2 AM when Alex decided to give up hanging around the phone to call Michael. He knew there were no more doors left open, or even slightly ajar for him to go into. Like the hush after a long war, everything was left desolate, gray, harried, and painfully silent.

He went to the kitchen and poured for himself half a glass of vodka. The flow of the liquid was slow and deliberate; its scent wafted through the room like a ghost.

A ghost.

That was what he was. Always have been, always will be. He almost always never knew where he was supposed to go. Almost always never knew what he was supposed to do. The furthest in the future he could think of was no more than a few minutes ahead. And right now, the only thing he could think of doing in the next few minutes is downing his vodka.

All the other space in his mind is occupied by Michael – who, as of that moment, is no longer part of his future. Not in the next few minutes, not in the next few days, not even a voice, or a breath, or a wistful look. Shut the door, throw away the key.

He was left out in the dark. He was hoping for rain, but not even the clouds would agree with him. It was awfully quiet. The night was windless but really, really cold. What can the warmth of a single tear do?

His hand mechanically touches the wetness on his cheeks to brush it away, but he realizes it isn’t his. He hadn’t shed a tear at all. It was Michael’s. The only thing Michael left him with. There were no words to remember; there was no look to embed itself in his heart; only the cooling wetness on his cheeks, burning like fire on a cold, silent, and windless night when all doors were shut, and there is no future to look forward to. Not even a few minutes to spare. Even the smell of the vodka is gone. But the ghost is still here, burning silently.

He puts down the empty glass on the counter, picks up the phone, and dials. The machine answers. “Hey Michael… I just wanted to say good night properly. Take care…”