Ficlet #1

For lostinapapercup, by request



It's a chair. It's a chair in the corner of the room; the window looks out onto the streets of the city of Tharsis. Not the best neighborhood and not the worst.

Just Tharsis.

The chair is empty; the apartment's empty. There's nothing left, or at least nothing to personally identify the woman who lives here.

Lived here.

Except she left the blown-glass fish. Stupid, isn't it?

I gave her that. She used to sit there on that chair in front of that window, the fish and a vase with a rose in it right there on the sill and I'll never forget the first time I saw her sitting in that chair: I was in pretty goddamn bad shape and she took me in and bandaged me up and took care of me and I thought she sang like a mermaid and mermaids needed fish for company and as soon as I could, I got her that little glass sculpture.

Damn. I guess she really did mean to leave. To leave me. To leave me behind.

That really sucks.