Water colour china shines from the sun, melting the white walls into a rainbow of light. He sits with his mouth twisted into a concentrated thought, and his eyes focused on what used to be me. Only a picture..a tearless memory. My hand translucent against the wood grain table, my heart no longer ticking in time with the aging grandfather clock. No longer cold, no longer warm. No longer full of over joy and life, and no longer filled with sadness or contempt. I cannot smell the wilting daises, I cannot taste the week old cigar smoke likely stale in the air. Nothing is the same, but it is rather comforting.

*Water colour china shines from the sun..

Something was missing the moment I stepped out the door. I wondered frantically at the sight of my bare hands and empty pockets at what that something could be. I walked back inside the dreary blackness of the empty house and searched all over for something that would release this feeling of exile from my chest. I searched the kitchen, the bathroom, my shadowy bedroom, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I finally checked the heart of the house, the living room and, there! My keys were laid out on the coffee table. I picked them up grasping the cold sharpness from the idoling keys, only feeling a moment of relief to find that, no. *That wasn't what I was looking for.