“You should have told me you were coming.” The short story — Douleur.

She could always tell when someone or something was within close proximity. It caused an unwelcome feeling of anxiety that began in her gut and gyrated to her intestines to prompt a bowel movement or, like this time, climbing up into her throat.

"You're early. " she croaked, her throat thick with the emotion. No response. Yet she could feel the presence encapsulating her entire being, waiting for some cue. Sighing, she pushed her laptop away, inadvertently knocking her design portfolio to the floor.

"Might as well hang up your coat and grab a seat," She gestured mindlessly to her right; to the sofa bed which swallowed most of the space in the 9m2 studio. "I might make some tea. You want?" and without pausing, "I know you have no plans on leaving anytime soon." Her voice bordered on a sneer. She hated unprecedented visits. Especially these kinds; no preface, no preamble; just unwanted company.

Still no answer.

The silence became so deafening that she sought to fill it with more babble. Grazing a finger over the spacebar of her once high-functioning Hewlett-Packard computer, she mused aloud, "Y'know… had you told me you were coming, I would've made arrangements…" She paused to glance up at nothing. "..even taken some time off from work. But no… you must have your own way. You must do what you feel like."

She scowled, jabbing the computer key hard with a forefinger. Throwing her hands up, her voice more strained than intended, she whimpered,

"Why do you always do that?" Then, wrapping her arms around herself in an open attempt at self comfort, she whispered, "I'm so good without you. So strong. So happy. " She silenced any potential response by wailing out loud, then clamping both hands to her mouth as if the action had been involuntary.

"I can't do this now. I'm sorry. You have to come back. Look, I'm swamped.. I have school deadlines." She thrust the papers off the top of her desk indicatively. "I'm behind at work. Just please… give me a chance to-to catch myself and I'm all yours."

Her staccato tone was sacrificial. She stared ahead at the eyes boring into her own, her very soul. They looked sad. A tell-tale tear confirmed it. She rubbed at it gently as more continued to spill unabashedly. She bent her head, unable to sustain the gaze, gripping the two hard shoulders for support. Molecule after molecule met hardwood as the dam shattered, leaving her spineless. Her grip loosened and she fell to her knees, meeting the same sad eyes on her descent.

"You should have told me you were coming."

But pain is no polite neighbour, knocking before entry. Pain comes with the subtlety of an avalanche. And she had found herself, once again, in its path.

Have this intruder ever barged its way into your life, disrupting everything? Do you feel how she feels?

Your comments are welcome.

Love,

Don