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..