Flicker

~

The television monitor flickers on and off, sending dappled light across her prostrate sleeping form, lifeless she dangles from the couch, the remains of a lonely takeaway scattered as remnants on the carpet

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The light flickers awkwardly, stuttering in clicks that resonate around its glass domain. The walls streaked with a sort of imitation strobe, dark and light, and light in all its tonal varieties, the bright white glare of full light in half a blink or the more common tones of dull yellow or a muddy brown of a light that strains to reach but half of its potential. She sits at the table arms folded across her chest, eyes straining to pursue the words across the page in that shifting contrast of black and white. She shoots a glance upwards at the stubbornly infuriating bulb and abandons her reading to make a cup of tea, the kettle boiling in a banshee's shriek, a suitable soundtrack to the bulbs continued indecisiveness. Slopping the teabag into the rubbish bin she gives a twinkling clattering twirl around the teacup with a teaspoon. Tea cup safely ensconced on the sideboard she glares upwards once more before putting it out of its misery with a thwack from a saucepan she'd fished out of the cupboard.

She stands in the dark then, heels dug into the table top, teetering a little uncertainly in amongst all the books and wasn't there a vase of flowers somewhere, the nice roses that whilst a bit wilted now still smelt as sweet a gift that they were. Too saccharinely sweet though perhaps, now in the dark their rich pungent smell seemed to escalate, to fill the absence of anything else distinctive. Something about their sweetness seemed to have changed as they grew older and wilted, less fresh and crisp, more heavy a stench, sweet but cloying. Standing in the dark with that smell drowning her nasal senses, she finds her breath shortening until her heel suddenly flicks back in a sharp snap, sending the vase hurling across the dark space connecting with what was probably the wall. An initial thud that is immediately consumed by ear shattering cracks dwindling into a melody of tinkling glass and water droplets, the bruised flowers still oozing a death scent but she could put it out of mind now.

She closes her eyes to the dark, more for the reassurance of tight eyelids wrapped across her pupils than anything else and gambles a leap down from the table. She hits the back of the chair and stumbles with difficulty, regaining her balance with clenched hands that lock around the edge of the sink hopping gingerly to make sure her limbs are orientated correctly before trusting both feet to rest still against the floor. Stretching over she wrestles for the cord to open up the blinds to let in a tiny fragment of wane moonlight, a waxing moon already just a mere scratch of light in the dark but her eyes are adjusting better now and she can pick out the palest of grey shadows giving some substance to her surroundings. Finding her teacup she wraps her fingers round its breadth, letting the warmth creep into her skin, softening the frigid pores with a slight tingle of renewed energy. Pulling the cup up to her lips she takes a sip, letting the hot liquid pour down her throat in a shot of warmth only to tilt her head forward again to spit the bitter sugarless concoction out, bitter disappointment clinging to her tongue as she tips the cup out into the sink.

In the silence a drop of water hurls itself downwards from the edge of the tap to fall into the sink below splashing and splaying out into an array of tiny droplets and a metallic ring. The tap drips steadily, clink, a water droplet, clink, impacting against the stainless steel, clink, resonating beyond the supposed limits of its size, clink. Expanding in size with every tumbling fall. The echo catching in her ear drum and rolling down into her brain, Clink Clink Clink Clink Clink Clink. Hands grabbing the handles to try and stretch them hard, slipping against them before scrabbling in the opposite direction to release a more steady rush of water. Peace gathering in her head before tumbling back down in amongst the rapid falls, a roar of water that rolls over her mind, drowning her ears until cold water pours down her dress soaking the fabric running between the narrow crevices of where her body was pressed against the side of the sink. Hands scrabbling once more at the metallic hands to cease that flow of water that has pooled and puddled in between her toes at the base of her shoes.

She cries then, tears slipping down her cheeks in a vague attempt to turn freshwater puddles into a salt water sea, but only a small cascade can escape, there in the dark spaces of loss and waiting.