Morghen Tidd - A Story

CONFINES

here

the night in spring rain like a tantrum. a room with a television buzzing. a window shaking from thunder. the pizza handmade one slice taken from its middle. the thunder mellowed by the house’s own noise. the lightning dimmed by the lamps. there is a guitar untouched with a song on the lips of its strings. the raised step of a fireplace red with interruption of the floor. two chairs sit empty a sham thrown over the cream top of one. the other without a thing. the record player set to go with the needle up hanging over the record. an empty trashcan mesh outside waiting for anything. a living room on a dead end road.

there is the girl sitting on the futon next to another body one of a guy. on her face anticipation. on her body dread with its past knowledge. a makeshift bow pulls her hair back. the girl is looking at the television screen. the guy is looking at her. his hand is reached out toward her cheek. on her shoulders the weight of expectation. her mouth is lipsticked black. her hair is dyed with blue a midnight shade. he is ordinary except his hands are nicer than most. the girl is pulling her body in. the girl is folding in on herself.

the night makes itself known outside of the room. on his lips are desires. there is the weight of the night sinking into the space. the weight of the night sits beside the girl and the guy. he looks at her. he looks expectant. he kisses the girl’s cheek a careful distance from her mouth.

here

the day seeps through the half cracked window. the day smells warm like trash. there are screams from a couple fighting outside. a car door slams. in the room there are three empty bookshelves. the sunlight flickers on the empty space. there is dust gathering like a coat. on the kitchen table are books and paper scraped with forgotten thoughts. on the kitchen table are crumbs left behind. in the mini refrigerator there are beers and grapes. a scream outside is heavy full of swears of tears. the kitchen faucet drips with consistency.

there is a girl seated at the table. she stares at the blank wall behind the coffee machine. before her is a handful of grapes. the grapes are directly on the table. from her phone ambient music flows out filling the emptiness. a clock ticks as its hands move in slow circles. the girl taps her finger on the table in time with the ticks. the grapes quiver uncomfortably with the thought of rolling off the table. the girl’s face is made up with boredom.

the day seems stagnant before her eyes. the screaming outside has stopped suddenly. the air is a reminder of summer’s depth. the buzz of a lawn mower interrupts the new silence. the smell of cut grass layers over the smell of trash like a tight hug. outside of her door is the possibility of anything. the girl waits like an empty room.

here

the spring that feels more like a summer for the gasp of a moment. there is an ugly metallic sink stained with paints and residue. the murmur of others surround the space always a few steps away. the tiled squares shine sterilely reflecting the room from below. there is a microwave and refrigerator stacked like boxes but the room is more hallway than kitchen. where the dishes should be are a package of newly opened cigarettes positioned to hide the name. the shame of the afternoon lingers in dirt around the sink.

there is a girl leaning against the makeshift sideboard. a cigarette kissed purple with lipstick hangs from her mouth. her hand clasps the thin neck of a beer bottle. intensity clings to her skin as her gaze forced blasé meets the guy in front of her. he looks back at her through the filter of a camera’s viewfinder. beside him another camera stands still on its tripod in anticipation. between them the smell of unspoken desire. between them shared understanding of desire’s falseness. he holds a cigarette between the shutter button and his finger.

 the unwinding exhale of a breeze reveals itself within the small hallway. a breeze that sweeps away with it the heat of desire. a desire that is more of a moment. a desire that is more of a breath. a flash shoots out from one camera hitting the girl. she is frozen in the frame of his design. she drops the cigarette to the floor.

here

the night in autumn warm like a summer breeze. a room white walls blank in anticipation. the window open pulled up and forgotten. the reminders of an old snack crumbled along the windowsill. the reminders of past sex empty condom wrappers carelessly left behind. a bed no frame lifted up by boxspring rests pushed against a wall. a bed unmade sheets crumpled adorned with whimsical orange patterns. the shelves coated with thin dust brushed away in book width streaks. a photo on the top shelf a girl in black and white smoking marlboros frozen in her inhale. the two door closet left open clothes half strewed half hanging deliberation. a night light plugged in. a half glass of water on the sill. a half glass of wine deep red on the sill.

there is a girl standing in the room towards the middle. on her face not a smile but a lack. on her body the loose hanging of a sham dress. on her feet exposure of skin. there is a girl standing straight in the room. her arms hang one on each side. her eyes closed outlined in heavy black. her fingers crossed in anticipation. there is a girl standing alone in the room. she is silent. she is still. she is filling the empty space.

the night quiet feather like in its weight. the window is open still as a thing forgotten is. the girl stands next to the window silent breeze rustling hair. the silence broken by a scream. the scream amplified by nearing urgency. red emergency lights dancing on the walls resemble more rave than tragedy. red emergency lights dancing off the girl’s body. rhythm like a song siren wailing like a cry. the girl watches out the window emergency vehicle blocking the street. the girl watches the stretcher and white sheet. a small crowd gathers around the vehicle men and women peeping around. a small crowd pretends to care for a stranger. the girl dances to the wallowing rhythm of the sirens.