Regret's an Empty Store

Regret’s an Empty Store

She was older – older than her years implied. She had beauty, adventure, all the men she wanted. She had a car and a mansion, and a long beaded necklace that, when she got nervous, she’d play with. He remembered how her fingers would grab a bead and subtly roll it back and forth. No one else had noticed.

Her nails were long – he never really liked that about any woman. And, on her right ring finger, she wore a ring – it was white, and looked almost like a pearl. He had often wondered where she’d gotten it from, and in his head he’d made up stories about it.

Her hair curled out around her head in large loops. He knew she’d had it done in a salon. Her make up accented her eyes too much: it made them look too big, too expressive. Perhaps she had thought that was a good thing. Her nose was average, he supposed, it was gentle at least, and curved nicely at the bottom. And her lips were full. Overall, he was sometimes intimidated by her face; it was beautiful, but in a strong sort of way that no other woman could pull off.

Still, he though, eyes looking down on a picture he held. Still. He had not seen her in twenty years. Her fault, or his? She’d gotten caught up in wrong affairs; she’d hooked up with the wrong man. The picture was the latest he had of her; her fingers nervously running over her beaded necklace, her eyes staring at him with something like sadness or regret. And yet, she’d abandoned him. Yes, he nodded, yes. He’d been her greatest friend, and she’d left him.

He looked about the attic, at the other pictures scattered around him. A car… he didn’t even remember whose it was. Probably her father’s; no, probably her father had bought it for her. He tore the picture in two. Her father had always hated him.

Then there was a photograph of the mansion – that he didn’t need. He tore it and threw it on the pieces of the car’s picture. Then he stared at the other pictures – all memories he didn’t need. He took them all, and ripped them, and finally only one remained. Her picture. He stared at it for what seemed the length of an hour. It had been years. Still…

He tore the picture in two. It had been her fault.