She stood motionless, a hot cup of coffee nestled between her hands. She was thinking about him. He had left her without an explanation. He had given her no warning. He just never came back. She had given him everyting, her mind, her love her body. He took what she gave and then left. She was heartbroken. She did not want to go on. She couldn't go on. She was too embarassed. He had left her alone, penniless and pregnant. She could not return home. Her father would not allow her to embarrass them. He was the preacher. He would lose face. The town would look down on him, talk about him, make jokes about him. No she would not shame him with a pregnant, unwed daughter. She was drenched in silence. The fog, the pier, the water were all silent. The silence captured the mood but she did not mind. In fact she preferred the silence. The silence created a proper stetting for what was ahead. Her heart and mind could not go on. One last sip of coffee, one last swallow and the silence was even greater. Now her heart, her mind, her soul and her babies heartbeat joined the silence of the fog, the silence of the pier, the silence of the water and the silence of the night. They were one in death. They were one in silence.
Posted by George S Batty