Sixteen Minutes To Ten

Sixteen Minutes to Ten At sixteen minutes to ten it ended snapped like the film in a theater camera fluttering images slapping the hypnotized beating against the white light’s call. An empty coldness crept into the being slowing the heart, seizing the nerves, the warmth of the core exhaled in vain attempt to reboot. The eyes gazed at the old tower clock sixteen minutes to ten. That time would mark the end of feeling, of laughter, of tears. He would not see her arrive inhale the wonder of her presence, touch the silkiness of her flaxen hair. He would not hear her shriek as she saw him, lying on the stretcher covered by a sheet – lifeless. They had been lovers, confidantes, intimately intrigued by one another inquisitive as to the depth of their relationships boundaries. She had dreamed of a future – their future - together in the coming springtime walking slowly in the April rains, hot dogs and cotton candy at the fair on the Forth of July, pumpkins and Thanksgiving, snow angels. hot chocolate kisses. They were new to this – romance - moving cautiously through each nuance of love’s mystery, each level of connection, each imagined fulfillment. At sixteen minutes to ten it ended. John G. Lawless