Two Fast, Three Slow

There is a knock at the door.

For a moment I sit there, light from the TV shining against my face. It's a nice night; not warm, not cold, but if I go outside it smells of stars.

I shudder, stand.

Knock, knock, knock.

Two fast, three slow, playing to a tune in my head. Two fast, three slow. Two fast...

I grin wryly, retreating to the kitchen. The TV is blaring, the kettle is whistling and my hands work automatically. My thoughts are miles away, years behind me, days in front of me. I stop and for a moment, all I see is a supernova of colour.

Two fast, three slow, there is a knock at the door.

Clutching a cup of coffee I curl into the couch by the fire. Images flash before my eyes, colours and scenes being acted out cheerfully that hardly register in my head.

For a moment, the world loses focus, swirls and dances around my head. I laugh, shut my eyes and all I can hear is a knock, knock, knock.

Two fast, three slow, it won't stop pounding against my head.

I sigh, open the door. Two fast, three slow, such a tune wouldn't stop if I waited a year.

"You're early."

She grins, says nothing. Just stares at me with eyes that look as though they barely know what they're seeing.

"Come inside, won't you?"

I reach out to take her coat, to lead her inside by her elbow. Then I pause, smile, step back. Our arms don't touch. They never touch, just gently pass each other and I can pretend what she might feel like.

I imagine she would feel dead.

She doesn't come inside. Never sets a foot inside, just smiles, opens her mouth and says, "I brought your memory back."

Of course, of course. Two fast, three slow, she comes every year, wearing the face of the one I used to love.

I imagine next year she'll be back again. Two fast, three slow, I can never escape her.