Blink

Blink

You feel the cool autumn breeze brush against the hairs decorating your forearms, sending a gentle shiver up your body and down your spine. As you watch, goosebumps run their way down your skin, creating an obstacle course of pimples rising up to reach the heat. You exhale, letting out a breath you weren’t aware was locked inside. A cloud floats away from your mouth, whispering sweet nothings to you as it dissipates into the air around you.

Blink. You have to remember to Blink.

Your vision fogs, only for a moment, as you let your mind wander. Tears prick your stilled eyes, threatening to flow overboard. The cold wind returns, harsher and faster than before, and at last you Blink.

Your hands find the wooden banister before you. They feel every split and splinter as they slowly drag along the chipped wooden surface, grounding you in the moment.

You Blink again. Shake your head. The memory, like everything else, disappears on the wind as it billows past. Pulled from your mind and taken along for the journey.

Your fists clench, and you feel the wood biting into your already calloused skin. Your knuckles turn white, straining as if to break through the barrier of skin holding them together. The feeling hasn’t left you, not yet. Not ever. And though you can’t quite figure where it came from, you know this place, this view, was part of it. A long time ago.

Blink.

Words escape your mind as you look to your fingers, to the well-worn but empty space on your left hand. You thumb the weathered skin, feeling the bumps and ridges left behind from the life you used to live.

The lake still shimmers, even in the dying sunlight. Few rays fight their way through the neverending expanse of grey that blankets the sky above you. You watch a few dark shapes moving under the still water, too big to be mistaken as an ordinary creature of the waves.

Blink.

The shadows are gone, and the empty air is sliced through the middle with the shriek of a child, splashing in the shallows. You press on the splintered rail, leaning toward the sudden noise. Birds of all kinds, already settled for the night, reawaken and take fight at the disruptive sound. You watch a lone magpie, small but proud, swoop higher than the rest, looking for a calm place to sit. Their penetrating squawks gnaw your ears, rattling the drum thrumming from an even pace to erratic. You feel it pounding in your brain, and close your eyes again to shut out the outside world.

A smile. A kiss. A splash.

Blink.

The gust returns, stronger again. It wraps its brawny arms around you, forcing a step back and away from the balcony. Your shirt, pale blue with the buttons done up to the collar, twists and turns with the wind, taking it in and blowing up like a balloon. You feel your feet straining in place, fighting the air and the ground and everything in between to stay in place.

You cannot see the child any longer. Only a glimpse of shining hair before the platform blocked the view.

Your mouth is closed to it. The wind, sharp and sudden as it is, tries to knock you down. You stand still, stiller than a statue on a hot summer’s day. Spots dance across your vision, obscuring the lake and the sky and all around. Your eyes widen, remembering something long forgotten, locked away in a chest and buried deep down inside. You gasp, the air flooding your lungs and-

Blink.

Your fists unleash from the railing, and you see a child rush towards the water. A smile plays on your face, and you descend the old wooden steps to join them. They rush toward you, take your old hands, and drag you to the shore.

The birds chatter in the trees above, awoken from their early slumber. A lone magpie soars the skies, searching and never finding its place in the trees. That same, haunting feeling washes over you, and for a moment you still, letting go of the child and searching the lake for something. Someone.

A gentle wind caresses your stubbled cheek.

Blink.