TheMOS: Peace/comfort.

He lie awake in bed, one hand loosely tangled in her hair and the sound of the ceiling fan whirring lulling everything into reflective thinking and memories. He was thinking of what he missed the most back home at that moment, thinking of home and thinking of peace, quiet. Comfort.  

One thing was for sure: his comfort was vastly different from hers. He was tall, broad shouldered and well built. He was often the one whom people went to for their own comfort and ease. He was friendly and huggable. But He had a very different sense of when things were the most comfortable to him, the most familiar and most safe of all places on earth. She loved bookstores, fresh sheets and overstuffed furniture which made her feel cozy and safe inside and out. Small things ensured her own personal peace in an instant. But for him, he only had one thing that really settled him. 

That place was the dock at Morrow Cliffs, by the sea and a few miles away from the closest market. The dock went as far as a mile out to sea, worn by the wind and salt but sturdy and old and craggy as an old fisherman. The bolts in the wood were rusted and crusted over with grime and the lamps along the way were dim and foggy. The dock was almost always empty and that’s why he loved it so much. To him, solace was found simply in being alone, with only one way back to the shore and the wide open sea at his back.

He had nowhere to run but he had the choice, at least, to go back.

Go back, walk the two and a half miles to that market and get a drink and maybe a sandwich. It was all simplified; there at the dock. Life was distilled into that one choice.  And that made him feel at peace more than anything.  

TheMOS: REGRET

The light above us was dim and amber yellow, throwing tall greenish shadows against the tiled walls of the kitchen and making the room feel very empty. Nights like these were not rare, they were in fact a regular thing we enjoyed now. Sitting quietly, sometimes talking, with lukewarm coffee mugs in our tired hands and resting our elbows on the dining room table. The moon was high in the velvety blackness outside before she said anything. Then her quiet, emotional voice broke the silence:

"When we had gone our separate ways I realized I had never had any intention of listening to him as a partner, a lover or a friend in any long term effect. The whole time we were together we didn't listen to the opposite’s heart or mind."

"How did you stay together then?" I asked.

"We had been very open, we shared a lot." She said frankly, her hazel eyes thoughtful. But her eyebrows were drawn together as she continued,

"But despite that, we couldn't stay together in the end. It was too much and we seemed to be okay with that by the end. We had dated for three years..."

"What a waste of your precious time." I said with a look I hoped she'd interpret as sympathetic. 

"No," She responded quickly, "I'd say it was more like a huge waste of an opportunity."

"Opportunity for what?"

" For both of us to grow up. If we had only stopped for a few seconds to think of how we could benefit the other, I think we would still be together." The tone of regret was deep in her voice as she said the last few words. She sipped her cold coffee and sighed.

"We'd better get some sleep..."

Series Kick-off: THE MEMOIRS OF STRANGERS

All of the next few posts are about fictional people and fictional circumstances that I've thought often about or have had randomly pop into my head and written down. I strive for realism and lifelike description in this series so it may come out sounding quite bland but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways!

-dh