Springs Early Thaw by J. Iner Souster
The dust on the floor tells stories of what has been and what is now a distant memory. So much is lost and forgotten, and many are still undiscovered. A location that no longer exists, but Emily knows these feelings all too well—things unnoticed by those who came before us.
She remembers it was the first time she had ever kissed. Emily discovers the man, lost somewhere in the summer. Her gaze searched everywhere to find him. She did not want to lose his image and was afraid to look away, afraid it would fade like his memory of her. But then, as she looked down, she faded. Her image was no longer visible, and only dark shadows that mirrored her image reigned. She is afraid.
It begins in March, with the seeds of thought she planted in the autumn before winter’s isolation had its relentless way with her. Restless feelings grow from someplace inside. The roots that have taken hold of her mind have now spread. Vines of desire made their way down into her stomach. After germination, the fertile areas, both above and below, are impatiently waiting to bloom.
She hungers for something new. Shedding her fears of change is as simple as undressing a strange lover she will never see again. Her feelings are like articles of clothing. Old sweaters and woollen socks are labelled “in case of emergency!” before being stored for the season. Rarely did she return to unpack. It’s easier to find new containers for another season’s wardrobe, another winter of mindless desolation, and another place to call home.
In spring, certain base feelings begin to grow and take hold, a yearning for the warm touch of lips like petals returned in kind. Winter-frozen dams are finite, only able to hold back so much water as springs thaw and trickle down into icy blue pools of water out of a desire to withstand the stillness of the present day and the heat that now rises. It was in this place that she felt her lips and kissed them.
In the summer of her discontent, all winters come and go, leaving a void in its wake. Its coldness draws her to the yearning for warmth that once raged within her soul. Nerves ripple along the skin of her arms. She presses her palms against the harshness of the wall and takes a deep breath. The touch of lips and the way they linger on their destination and then fall away, not wanting to press any further.
Laughter stirs beneath her skin. Emily is as much a stranger to herself as she is to her new environment. As she walks along, she sees the expressions of the people she passes, and her heart breaks. Emily waits for the light to turn at a crosswalk before continuing on her journey down the deserted street. She feels as though she might disappear.
J. Iner Souster is a painter of landscapes and portraiture, a sculptor who creates musical instruments out of reclaimed materials, metal dresses from handspun metal, and a collection of upcycled FauxBots. He’s also a photographer, musician, illustrator and mixed media artist. His writing has appeared in Spillwords, Friday Flash Fiction, A Story in 100 Words, 100 Word Project, The Drabble, and 101 Word Stories.
Artwork by Iner Souster
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