It lay there – relentless.
It’s wide open face trying to lure me in with fake promises of innocence and plausible deniability. Yet I could sense the danger; see the evil glint in it’s googly eye.
Every so often I came across it, usually in the big grand clear out of hoarded cupboards, of drawers, of boxes, of past lives. Yet every year it survives. The single birthday card destined to be sent out yet never quite reaching it’s full potential. Instead it lingers, ticking away at my mind and forcing me to recall memories of things past and left unsaid.
Oh, I know I could throw it in the dustbin or send it off to someone else to save the waste yet I just can’t bring myself to do it. The stupid humour on it was perfect for our little ‘in jokes’ that nobody else could understand and I knew you would appreciate the line of the poem I’d picked out and inserted especially for you – nobody else would have made the connection.
And yet I can’t send it now either.
Instead I clear it away, packed back into a shoebox, left to fester amongst the half burned candles and dried out roses. Left in the box of memories that mean the whole world and yet nothing at all.
This piece was written using the ‘card’ prompt by Linda G Hill as inspiration. If you want to join in or just check out some inspired writing then please check out her blog for rules and more.