The Lonely Note

His fingers reached out to touch the glorious piece of equipment that sat in front of him. They quivered with longing. He eyed the beauty. Admiring it's craft, with each breath mesmerized by its simplicity. And then just as simply, his fingers touched the magical gadget. The record player. It was his.

A stodgy delivery man with greasy palms had delivered it earlier the day. But the man hadn't ordered anything. He hadn't known what the box contained. It was a large cardboard container marked fragile. The accompanying note, simply puzzled him.

"Here's the piece of your heart you gave to me."

So, he opened it. 

And once he had, there was no turning back. The sight of the record player invigorated his mid-aged heart and helped him forget about the pain in his aging knees. He carried it into his study, carefully, all the way holding it close to his chest like a new born baby. The minute he set it down on the table, a sort of feverish urgency overtook him.

He went into the attic searching for the melody to accompany his breath. He found it, sitting under a dusty pile of forgotten items: toys from when his kids where just infants, gardening tools from summers when the water scarcity was less acute and a helmet, to remind him of the rush of being young.

He clutched at the single vinyl record and gently removing it from its cover, placed it in the player. A few hisses, and then just divine melody.


A warning sign
I missed the good part, then I realised
I started looking and the bubble burst
I started looking for excuses
Come on in

I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign

The music played on and haunting voices from the past filtered back in. Her infectious yet off-key laugh. Her cold hands, even on a warm night. Her wit and her jokes. Surrounded by memories of her, all he could feel in that moment was his pulsating ego.

It told him to shut it down. It always knew exactly what to do. It had always told him what to do.

No explanation. No discussions. Just a single command. 

But he couldn't listen anymore. His head spun, his breath came in short grasps, and his ego warned him that it would overwhelm him. But he needed her. He needed her memories.

She'd come into his life when he'd least expected it. Puberty had merely smacked him and left. He couldn't fathom the responsibility of being a man and so he let ego run his life. 

She asked him, then she begged. Stay, she implored him. Stay, she whispered. But his ego couldn't let him. She was a sign of weakness. As she came closer and closer, her body invaded the space marked out for his ego. With every hug and every kiss, she chipped a little bit of it away. He knew he'd have to give her more of himself. She was changing him. There would be no place for his ego in that relationship. And he wanted to stay, perhaps he didn't need his ego anymore.

But ego wouldn't have any of it. So he left. He made excuses and he always kept the upper hand.

Sitting alone in his study, nothing but his ego with him. He searched. He implored his brain to remind me what her face was like. But everything was a haze. A blurry view of his life through his ego. Through his pride. He hadn't even realized it, but his raging ego has burnt every thought of her. It had chased away all the feelings.

All he had was his ego...

When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so
And I'm tired, I should not have let you go