He says goodnight and bricks her back into her cell. It’s a house really but to her it is a prison, it is hell.
Trapped within her mind are memories that can’t be trusted, his emotions are crippled and busted, like a wrecked car rusted.
He sets the timer that make her walls close incrementally. Pushing and squashing her freedom, changing her gently into someone new but not better.
The walls don’t really move of course, there just walls, this isn’t Star Wars. This is real life, aging, screaming, dying, awaiting the fall.
He cements the final brick, he turns away, he’ll see her next week, so it’s Okay. For him no lament. He wants to love and care but still he mixes the cement.
She calls from behind the wall, one thing more, but he keeps his cool. Slam in the final brick, keep it inside – he’s no fool.
All she wants is her life returned, ghosts turned from ashes into flesh, an almost forgotten caress.
All she wants is her mind back, not just paper over cracks, face the facts get back on track.
Instead the walls are getting closer and she has no door. Just a cold, unbreakable brick wall.
Copyright John de Gruyther 2016