Chipping

The whisper comes with the wind. The caress of an idea, beckoning her to action. Pleading for attention and promise, begging her for a moment of attention. Just a silent breath, tickling her ear in the velvet night, offering nothing more than the kiss of a word that speaks so much more than its two letters could ever say.

Go.

With a steady pulse, the word races through her veins. Crawling desperately towards her mind, weaving itself so deeply in her psyche, that from the moment she wakes, she is unable to say whether or not she's been thinking the word for one minute or one year. All she knows is its echo, reverberating through her. The word appears in each moment, its sight a ghost that lingers with each new turn to her day. Standing behind her in the mirror, walking alongside her as she goes about her day. It does not leave her a moment to breathe. Silent, yet steady, it holds firm in her life, a reminder of all that she chooses to ignore.

And yet she moves forward. Stepping mindlessly through the routine of waking, washing, and working. Blankly existing as her husband chuckles to himself over yet another video on his phone, specks of toast flying from his lips to the table. Children screaming, thumps of feet echoing from the floor above into the corners of her mind, weighing her body with every step. The lights of the house now blinding her as the ghost of the word walks alongside, mocking her as she loads dishes, packs bags, and grabs coats.

"Are you ready to go?" her husband asks, gathering his coat and bag, calling out to the kids above them to hurry up. Move faster. They have places to go and things to do. A routine that’s desperate to be followed.

All she hears is go. And her body craves it. Yearns for it. Her heart leaping like never before.

Into the car, smoothly careening through morning traffic, her husband's hand heavy on her knee. Each caress of his thumb grates painfully across her skin, shaving another part of who she is into who she should be. A reminder to her of what precisely she signed away when she made her vows and signed that paper.

She smiles, her forced grin chiseled so delicately that the stone is almost ready to crumble, as the kids run from them, disappearing into a sea of bodies, condensing from an ocean to the mouth of a river until the flow is gone from sight and she is alone. With him. He, who continues to speak to himself, about himself. He, whose whole world is himself. And she’s given him no reason to believe otherwise.

As he is her whole world too. He keeps things in motion and turning. He causes the days to go on steadily through the chaos of life. Except now his colours are dulled and the movements are stilted. His once vibrant eyes, settling into the colour of melted ice against faded grass. The flash of his grin shattering into something a little too sharp to touch, ready to strike and slice at the smallest touch. His stubbly kiss now clawing her cheek, marking her face as his own property. And she is left to wonder if the colours were ever as true as they seemed. Or has she been fastidiously painting over the same image, time and time again, desperate to save the sight from sun damage and decay.

And then he is off, and she is free. With the slam of the car door, the breath releases and with it come the distant echoes of another time. One of a smile that was woven into her dreams, crafted so lovingly by stardust itself. A body that danced with the shadows in the moonlight, accompanied by a song that only they could hear. Mornings of hushed tones and whispered promises kept only by the wind. Eyes that offered a timeless sea, soft waves of love beckoning her closer with every glance.

And with that breath, those words come back.

We should just go.

The whispered promises of a better life. Two hands sliding together, opening a door to another world in which they could be free. Happy.

But with a heavy honk behind her, she breaks from her spell. Just as her hand had slid from its home with her soft voice choking out

I can't.

She chose the world that holds her heavy once before. It is why she wakes with mornings of chill rather than the warmth of the arms she still craves. It is why, despite the heart that beats for the two souls who came from her body, she still aches as an empty shell, yearning for the girl she was before. The one who loved freely, despite the shadows. The one so willing to cling to the light of another when all anyone else claimed to see was the dark.

The sight of the house looms before her as the car idles in front of the open garage. Her body holds her hostage, despite her mind screaming. Her day is planned. She's expected to walk through the door, slivers of herself whittled with each entrance into a home and a life that does not and has never felt like her own. Inches upon inches lost every moment of every day until one day, she'll finally fit the image desired.

And yet she sits. Idling. The frozen image of who she must be sweating in the sun of who she is. Who she cries for at night.

And she breathes. Once. Twice. She breathes.

She can't make herself go. But that doesn't mean she has to stay.

And as the wind dances through the window, wrapping itself around her once more, she makes a single call against the gentle hum of the words that once sang in her heart.

"I think we need to talk. This isn't working for me anymore."

Go. Live.