Ashes on the table beside a photograph., both stirring in the breeze that
wafted in through the open window. The ashes were a newcomer -- they'd been
there for only a short while and wouldn't stay long, scattered by the same
breeze that stirred them. The photograph, though, had seen it all and it
wasn't going anywhere.
No one paid any attention to the snapshot of the smiling couple standing on
a dock with their arms wrapped around each other. The reds and blues, once
vibrant and alive, had taken on muted tones from the sunlight that sucked
the life out of them but still, they looked happy. Content. In love,
whatever that was.
Fleeting, like the ashes. She barely glanced at the photo any more. She ran
a cloth over the frame when she dusted every Monday and Thursday but
otherwise didn't pay it any attention. She didn't know those people, not
anymore. They were from her past, from their past, as far removed as
third-cousins-by-marriage-on-his-father's-side.
"What are we going to do with the boat? If you let me keep the boat, you
can keep the lawn mower."
That was stupid. What would he do with a lawn mower in that apartment,
anyway? Of course she was keeping the lawn mower and the boat didn't have
anything to do with it. She didn't care, though. Let him have the boat.
She shrugged her shoulders and looked at a spot just behind him on the
wall. She tapped an unlit cigarette on the arm of the chair. She really
should get up and wipe that smudge. She really should quit smoking. She
really should....
