Keep Art Alive :: “The Waitress” :: Art by Jolene Lai
“What if this storm ends,
and leaves us nothing,
except a memory,
a distant echo?”
The parking lot seemed endless, the space between the two figures vast and moving further away, turning into that cartoon trick where the hallways and runways get farther and farther no matter how fast the character tries to run. She tried to speak but nothing but smoke and torn-confetti sized pieces of paper blew out of her red stained lips. He had made choices without her and each one stung like a slap. She would wear the scars from this for years to come, though they would be invisible to the passing eye, embedded deep insider her pale exterior. She would paint on airs and ways, happy smiles and too much make-up in order to cover up the pain, a new layer of masked denial. She knows the drill by heart now, a learned game from so many years past, her birthright, one might say. No one is ever the wiser.
But some days she sits on the back steps and remembers. She sees the asphalt lot, the gutted out record store, and she hears the echoed goodbyes. The tears no longer come, she left them behind in the middle of the desert, abandoned in the mobster’s makeshift graveyard. Every part that cracked and bled has now been sewn back together, gold and silver threads leaving a pattern of x’s and o’s. In those moments, though, sitting completely alone, she swears to everyone, and no one, that she will never open up like that again.
The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends?) :: Snow Patrol