The Pygmy Giant

by Elizabeth Worlledge

I remember the way you looked then. I didn’t understand what you tried so hard to say. Thoughts crashing and tumbling behind tear stained eyes.

An electric energy entombed us. Your smile unnatural, surreal; automaton reaction to an undreamable shade.

The chocolate began to melt in my hand; awareness of this sickly softening filled the dark place in my mind. A single clarity in the charged, almost melodic bedlam. Choreographed to the final, excruciating nano-second.

Frozen in time, the pneumatic hiss of the train announces the end of an act, an era. Startled, we finally look eye to eye.

Too late.

The door shuts and as you walk away the train motions its easy way into the fenland murk.

A glance at the transparency and you’ve gone.

My hands began to shake.

It’s over.

Elizabeth Worlledge lives in Derbyshire with her husband and dog, and teaches part time whilst creating her literary masterpiece!