Gold-dust
Gold dust.
She looked at me through hazy irises. Gold, just like the day around her. Even the air we breathed was golden. Little motes of gold-dust floating in and out of our lungs. When we spoke, the gold dust would catch on our tongues, and so our words would be golden too.
‘Look, Alex! A four leaf clover!’
Her excitement was golden. Bubbly and golden.
‘Keep it, it’s good luck’
She looked thoughtful as she placed it neatly into a fold of paper and tucked it into her dress pocket. I turned my back on her and looked over the rolling gold-green hills.
‘It’s beautiful’ I murmured quietly to myself.
‘Oumph’ Something warm and hard collided with my back.
‘What are you - ?’
‘Piggy back me?’
‘Ok.’
Her fingers dug softly into my shoulders, and her legs were high around my waist. Every now and then the wind would catch her hair and flick it into my face. She laughed.
Golden.
She twirled the stem of the clover between her fingertips, watching its leaves catch the sunlight and cast shadows.
‘Thankyou for bringing me here’
I nodded sleepily. ‘I know you like it here’
She smiled at me, placing the clover back into its fold of paper.
‘You know, I was never lucky enough to find one of those’
She looked at me through the cloudy sunlight.
‘That’s ok. You can share some of my luck.’
She let herself fall back and stared up at the sky. I did the same. The tall grass looked like living towers and tickled my ears.
She turned her head to smile at me. That hazy, golden, half-smile.
*Click*
‘Hey! I didn’t know you had a camera’
I push it back into my pocket quickly. It’s my turn to laugh at her now.
‘You know I hate having my photo taken’
‘I know’
~~
I run my thumb over her hazy smile, noticing how the edges of the photograph are rumpled and torn, how in one corner the ink is beginning to fade.
I’m knelt in front of an open suitcase, next to an empty bed. The sheets are clean and white, spotless just like the cream coloured walls.
It was all empty and clean and new, and I barely notice. But it is just what I need.
Something empty and clean and new.
I hear the door open and close behind me. I don’t pay any attention to the noise.
Sometimes when I look at this photograph I hear the squeal of tires. I can smell gasoline and burning rubber. The smell spreads deep into my lungs and makes me gag and wrinkle my nose. I can taste bile in the back of my throat.
Other times I look up and I can see the sunlight catching and playing with the molecules of gold dust floating in the air.
There’s a hand on my shoulder, fingertips gently digging in. It makes my stomach clench.
‘Is that your girlfriend?’
He is peering at the photograph, leaning over me. His face is blank, not even heavy with the inquisition.
‘No’
I stand, and the hand falls away. I pull a slip of paper from my pocket, tucking the photograph inside its fold. I flinch, just barely, when something falls out.
I catch the old, dried out clover between my thumb and forefinger, stopping it as it flutters aimlessly to the ground.
‘She was my sister’
‘Look, Alex! A four leaf clover!’
Her excitement was golden. Bubbly and golden.
‘Keep it, it’s good luck’
She looked thoughtful as she placed it neatly into a fold of paper and tucked it into her dress pocket. I turned my back on her and looked over the rolling gold-green hills.
‘It’s beautiful’ I murmured quietly to myself.
‘Oumph’ Something warm and hard collided with my back.
‘What are you - ?’
‘Piggy back me?’
‘Ok.’
Her fingers dug softly into my shoulders, and her legs were high around my waist. Every now and then the wind would catch her hair and flick it into my face. She laughed.
Golden.
She twirled the stem of the clover between her fingertips, watching its leaves catch the sunlight and cast shadows.
‘Thankyou for bringing me here’
I nodded sleepily. ‘I know you like it here’
She smiled at me, placing the clover back into its fold of paper.
‘You know, I was never lucky enough to find one of those’
She looked at me through the cloudy sunlight.
‘That’s ok. You can share some of my luck.’
She let herself fall back and stared up at the sky. I did the same. The tall grass looked like living towers and tickled my ears.
She turned her head to smile at me. That hazy, golden, half-smile.
*Click*
‘Hey! I didn’t know you had a camera’
I push it back into my pocket quickly. It’s my turn to laugh at her now.
‘You know I hate having my photo taken’
‘I know’
~~
I run my thumb over her hazy smile, noticing how the edges of the photograph are rumpled and torn, how in one corner the ink is beginning to fade.
I’m knelt in front of an open suitcase, next to an empty bed. The sheets are clean and white, spotless just like the cream coloured walls.
It was all empty and clean and new, and I barely notice. But it is just what I need.
Something empty and clean and new.
I hear the door open and close behind me. I don’t pay any attention to the noise.
Sometimes when I look at this photograph I hear the squeal of tires. I can smell gasoline and burning rubber. The smell spreads deep into my lungs and makes me gag and wrinkle my nose. I can taste bile in the back of my throat.
Other times I look up and I can see the sunlight catching and playing with the molecules of gold dust floating in the air.
There’s a hand on my shoulder, fingertips gently digging in. It makes my stomach clench.
‘Is that your girlfriend?’
He is peering at the photograph, leaning over me. His face is blank, not even heavy with the inquisition.
‘No’
I stand, and the hand falls away. I pull a slip of paper from my pocket, tucking the photograph inside its fold. I flinch, just barely, when something falls out.
I catch the old, dried out clover between my thumb and forefinger, stopping it as it flutters aimlessly to the ground.
‘She was my sister’