A Summer Rose


In a vase beside me the last rose of summer dips its head slightly as I sit in near darkness of my flat. Earlier, I showered and made myself ready to meet a lady at my door and then we would proceed to swankier parts of town for our first date. We were introduced at a dinner party a week earlier, using up most of the evening in each other’s company, finally making a date for this evening.
It is almost time for her arrival and I have been sitting here for more than an hour. Darkness has real presence and it is beginning to weigh on my shoulders but I cannot make my body rise out of the chair and turn the lamp on, light will be more oppressive than any heaviness dark can muster. Instead I sit with the only illumination coming between the closed door and threshold.
When the clock chimes and she hasn’t arrived, I think maybe she won’t come at all; I feel a sense of relief. As the seventh and final note fades, I hear the door opening at the end of the hall; I know it is her and my heart sinks. The click-click of her footsteps come nearer and finally I hear what I dread most; puk-puk, puk-puk as her knuckles rap against the wooden door. Puk-puk, puk-puk once more but I cannot move; I am emotionally frozen in time. After a minute, one more puk-puk and her shadow moves from the threshold, footsteps echo back down the hallway and the door to the outside opens and quickly closes.
I sit afraid and I have no idea of what or who I fear; I sit still for more than hour as my muscles stiffen and ache. I sit. Beside me, the last faded petal of the summer rose loosens its grip and quickly falls to the floor. I close my eyes from the remaining light and I am alone.
I am alone.

Happy Sunday!

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Published in: on April 6, 2013 at 5:12 pm  Comments (4)  
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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Beautiful story. I guess you drew your inspiration from Iwaszkiewicz’s prose. I’m glad you like this Polish writer. I should have returned to his diary. When I feel that my office work spoils my language I’m reading his stories once again. His prose has been always like a fresh source of my native language.
    Your story is a bit like a movie. I love you depicted this scene. Well written, my friend.
    xo

    • A New Love by Iwaszkiewicz is the best story in the book, I think. I know you like The Wilco Girls best, Jola. My “A Summer Rose” is his basic story but uses a serious loneliness whereas Iwaszkiewicz’s story is lonely but funny at the same time. Iwaszkiewicz is a good author for non-Polish people to read.
      Thank you, my friend. 🙂

  2. I have been there.


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