Bria sat next to me on the sofa, as I watched some random program on TV. I don’t know how long she’d been there. Probably as long as I had, I figured that’s how I worked.
“I know you’re not real.”
She smiled, and those green eyes lit up, and told me everything was OK. “I know.”
“I know you’re my brain cells writing up a fictional character based on a real person named Bria.”
I always forgot to be miserable when she laughed, which she did, “I know.”
“You know, there’s a lot of people who’d call me nuts, crazy, Fruit Loops…”
“And all the other words they use, yes. I know.”
“Someone like you could happen to anybody, you know.”
She shook her head, and that smile melted everything inside me, “No. Not anybody.”
“I’m not special, you know. This could happen to anybody.”
Again she shook her head, “No, it can’t. It won’t. It doesn’t.”
“Why?” I asked the question, even though I already knew the answer.
“You remember. You don’t forget. You haven’t forgotten me, even though you’ve tried.”
I wondered what it meant when someone that didn’t exist anywhere but in my mind talked to me, took my hand in hers, and squeezed it.
“I’m not real. But, I’m part of your heart. Part of your soul.”
Maybe I should have told her to go away, but I didn’t. Because, she could speak all the words I couldn’t. Words I didn’t know how to say.
It’s Week 452 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Trying to break the ice that’s encased my writing. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up every week.
“Would serve them right if I let the whole thing crash and burn.”
Anyone watching, listening, would have sworn I was talking to myself. They couldn’t see Bria. Couldn’t hear her either. Not like me.
“I know.” I sat there, staring at the screen, the lines of text on it. 50 lines out of thousands. “I know.”
I’d always wondered what it was like when the spirit, the soul of someone, sat with you, talked with you, put their hand on your shoulder, as she did. “I knew that when I took the job.” My eyes looked at her hand on my shoulder, followed her arm to her face, and found her green eyes, and magic smile.
“You have that magic.” It used to disturb me when she appeared and talked with me. Not anymore. I think I knew it wasn’t really her, not her body. not her physical presence. It was our hearts talking.
She put her hand on my cheek, “You’ve got that golden touch, that Midas touch, with this stuff. Where all the problems come unravel, and magic happens.”
“It’s a gift. One I have to use.”
Her smile fractured as she looked at me, “It comes with a horrible price doesn’t it?”
“I wish I could fail.” That’s why her smile had fractured. She knew my heart. “One time. Just once.”
That magic light in her eyes spoke words not in any language. “Then, you wouldn’t be you.”
“And our hearts couldn’t talk, could they?”
“No, they couldn’t.”
“Time to fix this,” I started on the final edits needed to straighten out the problem in the code.
“Yes, it’s time to fix this.” She sat on my desk, next to my keyboard, and watched me, as I worked through the night.
It’s Week 66 of #SwiftFicFriday, hosted by Katheryn Avila. Hard to write when you’re running on empty. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #SwiftFicFriday. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up regularly.