Others know him as a happy man. Always a good word for everyone. "Good to see you. My you look nice. Glorious weather, eh?"
But today...today he has woken in a dark mood. He has fallen into a deep, inescapable loneliness. The pit allows no sensation to penetrate; no colour, no touch, no warmth; only muffled distant sounds. He is abandoned.
Like a drowning man, he searches for a life preserver. He pulls open drawer after drawer, only to close each seconds later.
He pulls open another drawer and... His lungs fill. Periwinkle, his favourite shade of blue clears the smoky fog. His racing pulse slows as his hand glides lovingly over the sweater. He pulls it over his head and memories of her fill his mind. He recalls how she would squirrel something away as he walked into the living room.
"Back away from the knitting bag. Nothing to see here." She’d tease.
And he never peeked, not once—even though he was tempted.
He clings to those precious memories of her. He pulls the sweater down over his body and once again feels her embrace.
