Half

Half a chair was lying on the floor of a sliced open living room. It was cold in there, since the wall was missing. She sat by the fire wrapped in a blanket. Even the fireplace was not complete. She was getting used to this life – it was artistic, she thought, to have half of everything. Every other day her children would come home and cuddle up with her by the fire. The house was useless in really cold weather – snow filled the rooms, rain drenched the carpets, and she had to sleep in the car. But on a cool summer night it was bearable.

A long time ago she loved a man. And he loved her back. She loved him more and more, and wanted him to be around all the time, so she took him to live in her house. She loved him so much, that eventually there was no love left. She spent all the love that was given to her. The emptyness was painful, and then she started to hate him. She hated the way he looked, the way he dressed, and even the way he was breathing was enough to set her off yelling and crying and throwing things at the wall. He figured (and was right) that she wanted him out. They split, and their lives split. That was how she ended up with just one half. But she did not care.

After love and hate, there was nothing left. She foolishly spent all she had, without thinking of the rest of her life. Now half-things surrounded her everywhere, but she felt nothing. Nothing stretched into years. The children who used to come every other day grew up and stopped coming. The house finally fell down, on a windy day. The trees around it fell down too and flattened her car, but she lived. She knew that the other half of the house must have been destroyed too, so she went to look at the ruins.

He was sitting in his car watching the wind blow the wallpaper off the broken walls. His eyes were empty, just like hers. They did not see each other, could not see each other, but looked anyway. She was shivering with cold, and he had a heater, so she climbed into the warmth of his car. He was hungry, and she always had candy in her purse, so he reached for it, and she did not mind. They did not know each other, could not know each other, but once they had been one, and now the two halves were clinging to one another for dear life.

The wind tore off the pieces of what remained of their house. The shattered possessions they once shared lay around the ruins. Their attempt at a life of two people together failed. So now they had to be just one, just one person with two bodies, like two arms that share the load and feel each other’s pain. They will live like this till one of them dies. And what then? Then there will be nothing at all, forever.

The End