HOW YOU LIED

The stench of sweat and cold hamburgers is overwhelming and impossible to block out. The sound of cars and trucks rushing along the highway outside serve only to remind him of the freedom that has been lost to him.

As he stares at the cold, stone wall, watching the liquid moonbeams spilling in through the small, barred window, he is forced to think of her.

The miles that separate them are few, but he's never felt farther from her. It's hard to remember the little things that he took for granted before: the twinkle in her eye--rarely seen during the last few weeks--the scent of her perfume.

He shifts on the stiff, clumsy cot, the few springs holding the mattress squeaking annoyingly, and once more his eyes are drawn to the moonlight on the wall.

The moonbeams remind him of her.

Cold and unfeeling, white and mysterious, yet the only light he can see. The only thing big enough and bright enough to dominate the sky at night, yet slinking away during the day, in the presence of the sun.

He gets up from the cot and moves quietly across the cramped cell, to where the moonlight rests gently on the wall. Sliding to the floor, he leans his face against the wall and lets the moonbeams wash over him, imagining the cool, loving touch of her delicate fingers against his skin.

A thousand feelings and memories rush into his mind at once, unbidden, and he is reminded of the reason he's there.

She is the reason.

He stands quickly and in an angry rage, kicks the wall, kicks the moonbeams. Over and over, hoping that soon the moon will relinquish its brief and submissive power to the sun so that he is reminded of her no longer.

She told him she would help him.

She told him she cared.

She told him she loved him.

Oh, how she lied.

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There is no sound except the crickets playing their music outside her open window. As she lays in her bed, staring into the darkness, she is forced to think of him.

He is just across town but the distance couldn't seem greater if he were across the country.

The shades are drawn and the light from the street lamps outside is denied entrance. She is in complete darkness. She stares into the nothingness, suddenly realizing that the darkness reminds her of him.

Black and silent; dismal and unknown, yet somehow a comfort. It hides the pain and the sorrow deep inside itself, defiantly daring the light to expose all its secrets and deceptions.

She breathes deeply, suddenly realizing that the breeze blowing through the window has chilled her. She climbs out of the bed, raises the shades to close the windows, and the moonlight streams through, casting a strange glow on the objects in the room: the king-sized bed now accommodating only one occupant; the night stand, the dresser.

The light dispels the comforting but mysterious passage of the darkness and the spell is broken, causing her to think rationally once more.

She sinks to the floor in anger and grief, remembering all he's done.

All the mistakes he's made. And how much she loves him despite them.

He told her he could help her.

He told her he cared.

He told her he loved her.

Oh, how he lied.

THE END

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