The Box

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The smallest things, or rather what they mean, can irritate.
612 words
4.22
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SapphoSoul
SapphoSoul
14 Followers

Our living room is blurry, curtained by tears of a woman broken by the complexity of circumstance. I blink several times, wipe my eyes as fresh tears fall. My vision clears long enough to see a lone brown cardboard box near the door. A flash of resentment overtook my heart. For a moment I stopped crying long enough to question the air around me.

"Why the hell did you not get all of your stuff!"

It was enough dealing with you packing. I held it together when the U-Haul pulled up to our house, and when you handed me the key and pulled out of our driveway. I kept it together, but my heart can't deal with you having to come back to pick up one damn box.

You were gone and there was no changing that. It was time for me to realize that, or at least begin the process. I got up off our couch and headed to our room, kicking the box as I passed it. It was in my way, honestly.

On the way I passed your office, now empty, except for a couple of stray cords. I closed the door for now, but thought about what a great craft room it would make. I could finally move my things out of the garage.

I entered our room and heeded straight to our closet door. Behind it was a room decent enough in size to house a young child and their full bedroom set, comfortably. I knew the removal of nearly half it's contents would most definitely be noticeable.

Before I could open the mirrored door, I caught my reflection. My lip gloss was gone. Perhaps from biting my lips and holding my hands to them while stifling my cries shortly after you left, just in case you could hear me on the other side of our front door.

The mascara and eye liner that I meticulously applied before you came was smudged, resembling a botched attempt at a smoky eye. My foundation was streaked from tears. I resembled a tiger of sorts. All disheveled by emotions and I resembled one of the most dangerous animals known to man. How ironic.

I released the handle and headed to the bathroom. I grabbed a couple of makeup removal wipes and began the task of cleaning my face. After i was done, I applied some moisturizer, instinctively closing my eyes as I rubbed the cream onto my eyelids and forehead. Upon opening them I peered back at myself.

With both palms pressed against the granite counter I breathed in deeply, as if taking in the past few weeks all at once. The box squeezed through my trachea and settled in my lungs, the pressure of its corners burning my chest. It settled in amongst all the baggage I needed to let go.

So I screamed.

The box, you informing me that our relationship was no longer working for you, your insistence not to seek counseling, and the revelation that it wouldn't work because you'd been screwing and had now fallen in love with your assistant, all were forced out of my lungs by my inherent fighting mechanism.

After, I look at myself again, fill my lungs with oxygen and use that gift to tell my reflection 'I love you'. I exit the bathroom, cross the room, to my bed where the phone lay. You answer on the second ring.

"You left a box here. You'll need to pick it up by the end of the week. If not, you may repurchase your items at the Goodwill." Before you could respond, I hung up. I'd said what I needed to say.

SapphoSoul
SapphoSoul
14 Followers
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2 Comments
chytownchytownover 9 years ago
Best Damn Story Of The Day*****

And it had to be the shortest. Thanks for sharing will be looking for future submissions.

fanfarefanfareover 9 years ago
short & sweet....

....and to a very sharp point. An impressive flash story, SapphoSoul.

I look forward to future postings from your keyboard.

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