The first time he hears Queen, he’s eleven. ‘Who Wants To Live Forever’ is playing on the radio. Slow, measured. His mother is doing the dishes, shiny cups and bowls spilling water all over the counter.
Who wants.
And she takes a deep breath, glaring at the dishes as though they might be frightened into doing themselves.
To live.
A half turn towards him, an order to go do something productive instead of standing there, staring.
Forever.
Her face is red, eyes drooping.
The second time, he’s in the hospital. Cold white walls not cheered by the numerous paintings. The waiting room, with the quiet music.
Who wants.
He should be in with his mother at the time, but she’s asleep. And if he spends another minute in the cold pentagonal hospital room, he’s afraid he’s going to scream.
To live.
They’ll be out of here soon. They’ll be out of here soon.
Forever.
She’ll be okay.
The third time is two years after the funeral. He’s in his car. On his way from point A to point B.
And we.
He turns it up, just a little.
Can have.
And for a few seconds, he lets himself remember.
Forever.
Wow, err... Gloomy, depressing - full blown angst, yeah, that's about it.
ReplyDeleteDamn good writing though, I'll give you that.