Tabula Rasa

It was dark in the house, though a small amount of pre-dawn light was coming in through the window of the front door. The door was open. Closed. The scene swam, slipping away from him. The window was gone but the light remained. He needed to focus. Remember. He moved down the corridor, feet swimming through the dense air. Every night he dreamt this same scene, always the same. He couldn’t forget this time. Must focus. Retrace the steps, remember. He entered the kitchen, dark slate floor cool on the soles of his bare feet, and moved towards the door at the rear of the house. The keyring. Her keyring. Hung up by the back door. Her house. He’s leaving. Carpet between his toes. He was in her bedroom. Shoes off. Raining outside. New carpet. Warm light. ‘Please, leave. Please.’ She spoke to him, mouth opening and closing now in slow motion, he heard static. Words a fierce jumble in his head. He could explain. He’d forgotten the colour of her eyes. Knew everything but her eyes. He stared at her face but his tears blurred everything. He just wanted to see her eyes, one last time. Please.