Circularity #cbcsummerstory25
@curtisbrowncreative
Something had shattered. Porcelain had met marble; its screams echoing across the hotel lobby. Hidden behind the aspidistra plant, pretending to sip tea, she turns to look. A swirling breeze smothers her gasp.
Undeterred by the breakage, he simply smiles and pours more coffee for the handsome young couple. A rich aroma rises with the steam, and she inhales, imagining. Though his back is stooped, with a pull of material across his worn suit, his beauty is timeless nonetheless.
Still here then, you handsome old ghost? All the more.
Her low chuckle turns children’s heads, who call “Mama?” But the ‘Mamas,’ all too tired, just say, “Hush.”
“Bellissimo, Caro,” he had breathed into her neck—his shadow undulating above hers. “Emperor Augustus once lay here.”
And he, too, was married.
The breeze twirls out of the revolving door. The concierge flicks through the newspaper. The chambermaid pushes a laundry trolley as curses call from the kitchen. These endless repetitions are as tired as empty promises.
“Last call for the 10.30 Capri boat-trip,” shouts the hot-cheeked man in the too-tight navy blazer.
Already outside, she watches tourists snake to the marina. The breeze is a fine Rugerro now. It can dance the Tarantella too. Then, it tugs at the trees, whipping up the waves—turning azure blue to metal grey.
Today, and each day for the past forty years, she remains invisible, nestling, unseen among the neoprene-wrapped passengers. They never notice her green-slimed slip past bricks and then beneath the bobbing boat.
Tomorrow, when she sees him again, she will be draped in dripping seaweed—peering through aspidistra leaves in the same secreted corner. She will gasp but will not see him flinch. Nor will she ever see the sorrowful light shake of that timelessly beautiful head.
