Enga mellom fjella

Mourning gauze [232] [13+]

I love this room. I live here in an oak drawer stuffed with papers. So cozy with candles casting a rosy glow on my mistress as she sits there each morning on the edge of her high back chair. Their fragrance lingers in the air.

But today my mistress slumps, wrapped in her nightgown of gauze, her copper hair hanging, barely awake.

She isn't prepared for the telegram.

One never is.

She gazes at a stack of letters tied with a blue ribbon, the pink petals painted on panels not muttering a word.

I... I am summoned and gently lifted from my refuge.

No tick-tock of a clock notes the passing seconds as she stares at the void, eyes vacant beyond tears.

Her warm hand cradles me as the candle weeps. We who bear witness say nothing. What can we say to our somber young mistress. There's no consolation to overcome heart-rendering words once they're read and digested.

See me there, now gripped by her hand, wondering whether I'll be called upon to end her despair. I recoil at the thought.

         one shot fired
         which way it's aimed
         we don't know

© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, P.O. 22, [178.232.gz]

Invalid Photo #1062218
'Telegram' by Louise Max-Ehrler (1894)

~190 words