Joy that Kills
People said that it was heart disease. I’m sure it was not. There was no doctor or medicine that could have relieved the pain; the illness was deeper in my soul.
The house was filledwith people like usual, even on that unusual day. Brently had lots of friends, so they were waiting for him to come back from his trip, or some International Operations I cannot remember. Brently hadalways been a hardworking, honest, sweet man, yet a little selfish. He said he loves me, sometimes I doubted it; our relationship was a routine, and love is something else.
In the living room, nearthe shelves of his trophies and awards, his friends were sharing stories: some of high school memories and the basketball games, some of college memories, the achievements and conferences, and hissuccess at work. Everyone was laughing and talking. I was smiling too, not for happiness but for courage and strength. There were a lot of people; however, I felt alone.
Near the window was Richard,Brently’s best friend, and Josephine, my sister. They were our “adventure” mates since high school, since the time I thought I fell in love. Back in those days, he was a basketball player, and I wasjust a smart girl in our class, the one who used to feel excited every time he scored, the one who never left her books behind for any reason but him.
Josephine and Richard were staring outside thewindow, waiting for Brently. They were supposed to give the advice, so everyone would hide and gave him a surprise. Yes, we all were going to surprise him. He deserved it.
I went upstairs, into myroom, and locked the door to make my loneliness more realistic. I had on my right hand a cup of that pleasant beverage, my freedom elixir. I sat near the window and looked at the grey sky with someclouds as patches. Suddenly I could sense a delightful rain smell. I could also feel a slight cold wind passing through my cheeks.
I closed my eyes and imagined how wonderful my life would be if I...
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