Days of Longing

Where are you, my Alice? The sun is setting over the treeline making everything seem more vivid. Soon it will be dark and the demons of doubt will creep out, but for now, I am enjoying the warm rays on my face. I sit on the porch, looking at the little notebook she gave me. She said “Write” but I never dared. Those empty white pages were sacred, just like she was, and my ideas seemed too mundane. It would be sacrilege.

The day had been uneventful, I would even say dull, and the lack of her made it even worse. My Alice, every other minute I found myself thinking of her, the sound of her voice, her soft walk, the way she gripped everyday objects gently turning them into works of art. At one point I thought I could no longer recall her face so I panicked. Luckily, it was just a momentary lapse and I was able to ponder the beauty of my goddess again. What would I do if I lost her?

Now, on the porch I reflect how every passing minute brings me closer to her, so I welcome the deepening twilight despite the cold it brings. I encourage time to pass more quickly, I wish I could slip along its surface, unbeknownst to man or beast.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text. Is it her?

It is my friend Doug. “DUD, HANG @ MARSHALS.” He and the fellows are about to imbibe arcane spirits that give poets inspiration. I welcome the thought of deepening my affection for my Alice, a crisp clarity that comes from liquor and makes the lover’s heart grow fonder, the breaking of the shackles of dull sobriety. I get up and begin the walk towards the pleasure district. All the while, I imagine it is one year later and my Alice is out of high school and in college with me. Where are you, my Alice?

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk