Things That Remained

There was only a little confusion left in his breath, cheap whiskey had dried up nearly everything but the stale taste of her name. So, he spoke it. The small boy inside, the one with the bruised cheeks and chubby lobes. The quiet one. The one that had nothing but love, for everyone. In that moment, he was revived. He reached out. For his friend. But she was across town. She wouldn't recognize his voice anyhow, she had never met this boy. She had only seen the scruffy, clench jawed face of the man that boy had become. The broken spirit and bitter joy. The drunk. The anxious. The shattering facade. He lights a cigarette and looks to the sky, wondering if she'd answer the phone. What she would say? Is there anything left to say? He decides that there is. It's the only words willing to brave the journey. The only truth that remains. "I'm sorry." -James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.