Her

I was sitting alone in the dim light. The smoke clouded my vision and the music clouded my thoughts, but that was the way I wanted it. It killed me when she told me what she'd done. It killed me when I realized I had never meant as much to her as I thought. I was dead inside, and running away from the pain. It was the only thing I could do. Every time I went home I was overcome by tears. She had crushed my soul.

I looked around the room at all of the different people. It was an odd assortment, but then, I suppose you get all types here. This was a tricky place. In small amounts, it can distract your mind just long enough for your heart to heal, but if you stay too long it can just as easily destroy you. This place was both prison and escape.

I sat there for what seemed like forever. My mind wandered and my eyes drifted as I took in my surroundings. For the longest time nothing caught my eye. I just sat and watched as though it were a dull movie for nearly an hour, but then I saw her. I knew that she must have been the reason that I came here. I watched her graceful form move across the room and I couldn't help but follow.

She filled my vision, and I watched every move that she made. It was almost enough to kill the pain. Just like alcohol was almost enough to kill the pain, or drugs, or even work. It was almost enough, but something was still missing. I caught her eye, but she was busy. She had work to be done, and so I just watched.

She went about her job as though it were art. Her movements were meticulous and refined. There was an air of elegance to her, though I could tell that she was broken. Her eyes betrayed her. Eventually she finished what might as well be a painting or a sculpture. It was just as masterful. I wasn't the only one who had followed her as she walked across the room, but to everyone else she was just another broken spirit. They dispersed as she finished and I was left staring into her sad eyes, just as she stared into my own heartbroken soul.

“You don't look like you're having a very good time.” She whispered to me.

“I'm trying.”

She tilted her head to the side and her golden curls fell about her face. “What's wrong?”

I told her my story. I don't know why. It isn't like me to talk to people I don't know about my problems. It isn't even like me to talk about my problems to the people I do know. It was strange, but I knew she was the reason why I had come here. I was meant to find her. I was meant to tell her what had happened to me. She was the one that could help me.

In a dark corner of the strange place we sat and talked. All of my friends had given me their advice and so had my family. Logic told me hers would be more from the same bag of generic tricks. Still, I had to sit and listen to her talk. Her voice was every bit as angelic as her graceful movements. Logic had almost prevailed. Everything she was saying was more of the same, but somehow it felt different. It numbed the pain. Then she told me what I wanted to hear. She told me what I came to this place to hear.

She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, then whispered softly into my ear. “You should never have to run away from home to escape her memory.”

Suddenly it all made sense and I realized what had stopped me from going home earlier that night. I looked at her dumbstruck by my sudden revelation.

I barely managed to say thank you as I walked towards the door.

“If you're still feeling bad you can always come see me again.”

It was a nice sentiment, as transparent as it was. I wouldn't go back to see her again. As I said, too much of that place can destroy a man, but in small amounts it can provide just enough distraction for the heart to heal. I walked into my house later that night and my problems didn't once cross my mind. They were far behind me. I was done running away.

I was at home now, and I was happy with that. I was where I belong and I owed it all to the angel on the corner stage.

Word Count - 795