Picture 2
Pablo Michael’s Picture Choice: 2
Title: Missing Companion
Absent of a companion, Scott allowed his soul to transport into depression. After staring at the room without the gut level importance for the necessary arrangement of the furniture, he removed everything except the table and one chair.
“This used to symbolize something, Timothy,” his voice echoed, absent of an audience. “Could you remind me what it all meant? “Why did we bother having six chairs?”
Scott’s thoughts drifted into the prevailing silence in the dim light.
“You’re right, Timothy. You suggested surrounding the table with six chairs. One for me and five for each man I loved. Michelangelo said he never loved me when he returned from that last business trip. You understood how his words had devastated me. And the second was for John, the one who snooped behind my back, trying to use my past for his own gain. He secretly studied my medical file for his research. Then, the third chair was for Phil who juggled our relationship with two other men. He humiliated me the most. I had given him all of me, but it wasn’t enough. I never understood why I wasn’t enough. And then how I waited for David to grow up until his life expired with AIDS. My unending devotion had exhausted my search for another chance to love. But then you dropped into my life like a fresh spring breeze fragrant with Hyacinth blossoms. I never told you how the gods informed me you were weeping for my former pains. I’m sorry. I would try having chairs for both of us, but I can’t have the fifth, your chair, around the table too. Even though you were the only one who loved me. The gods told me your heart was taken from both of us because you were tired. I can forget my grief for the other four, but my sorrow from the loss of your beautiful eyes, where I could gaze beyond and see us growing day after day. Losing your friendly smile and hilarious humor that made me happy would be more than I could bear. I will love you as long as I continue to breath. Your presence is within me, guiding me to that day when I join you.”
Scott gazed through the window at the sunny patio.
“Come Timothy. Let’s go outside where it’s warm. I will recant all our days we had. No? Yes, I forgot your time capsule. I’ll sit and read what you left.”
Content to reminisce the times he had with Timothy, Scott opened the round cylinder on the tabletop, studying the worldly items his missing companion left.
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Pablo Michaels writes LGBT fiction and has published with Naughty Nights Press, http://naughtynightspress.blogspot.com You can follow him at @bell2mike
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