He took in the deepest breath he could manage. Should he burst his stuttering ribcage with it, so it would be.
Ahh. . .
So distant from him . . . so much distance . . .
And yet his abode was furnished like four still haunted the house. Dusty tuxedos hanging patiently from doorframes. A banquet fit for hundreds to be consumed by one. Wardrobes chock with finery grander than the trimmest fitting: memories.
He wouldn’t let the breath out. No. Not ever. If the whales swimming in the ocean exhaled before him, he would not be happy.
It still has her scent . . .
Intoxicated as a yearning pauper in love with the princess, was he.
Dear sweet lavender! Enchanting him under her wicked spell from the first moment. Even before he had the chance to gaze at her swan-like grace, Athena’s mortal form, the skin so delicate he thought it would break under his touch! Had she been a siren? A witch? Luring him into her clutches to be dragged down to the fiery depths of Hell? Would he care a single piece should that be so?
No. She was the sun, she was the light, she was the oxygen he filled his stricken lungs with each second. And if she weren’t there to provide her glow, her light, her fragrance? The beating heart locked inside his aching chest would split into five – one for each sense that he lacked without her presence.
So iridescent and smooth the material felt to his fingertips.
Ghostly orchestras hummed the melody planned for the first dance.
Shockingly modest a garment it was; not too fancy a detail in sight.
Despite its only use, so long ago and for such a short time . . . lavender.
Today would have been its grand finale, fluttering in the spring breeze as it carried its occupant to her destiny. But no. It hung neglected in the wardrobe. Unwanted, unneeded, unloved.
Finally, he exhaled.