The sophisticated style of the restaurant was confirmed by the live music. The constant hustle and bustle of the impeccably dressed waiters was a consequence of the very high demands of the customers that night. Dozens of couples spent a romantic moment at the tables, dressed appropriately for the occasion. At other tables, top executives celebrated the latest successes of their companies with champagne.
But in a large window overlooking the nighttime metropolis was a secluded table where a beautiful woman sat alone, expectantly awaiting the arrival of her entourage. Her face was a mixture of sadness and hope: sadness because the man I was waiting for was late, he was more than half an hour late, and hope because I thought he had not forgotten his special appointment for today.
Source
And that woman was you, and that table was ours, where I proposed to you under the stars as a witness, and where we renew our vows of love every year. Yes, today is also June 20th, but you know it's useless to wait...
As the minutes pass, you ask the waiter to give you a glass, from which you drink slowly, your lips tightening with each sip and pressing hard on the delicate crystal. Then the intricate mechanism of your imagination, conditioned by all the pain you have experienced in the last few months, kicks in and you see me finally walk through the door, with a bouquet of white roses in one hand and a black briefcase in the other, and I run out because I know I have been going too slowly.
You look up and follow me from the door to the table, where you're still waiting, but you're no longer sad because you think there's a good reason for the delay, and you smile and your eyes light up. But when I finally move a few meters away from you, you see how my figure dissolves like fog until it disappears. You look desperately around you, but see only the sympathetic glances of the people at the surrounding tables.
At that moment you regain clarity and face reality. An overwhelming sadness takes over you, your mind breaks and tears begin to flow from the sheer pain that you cannot control, that you do not want to control. You know that another crisis is coming, but you don't want to take the pills out of your pocket because you think they will only delay and increase the suffering that one day you will have to endure to end it for good.
However, you are not prepared for this encounter and your heart suffers from increased anxiety, so you try to head for the exit. You are completely unconscious and are transferred by ambulance to St. Joseph's Hospital, where you spend the next few days under anesthesia, observation and psychological care. The same hospital where they couldn't do anything for me, the same hospital where we said goodbye eight years ago.
End.
Welcome to the Ink Well. Thank you for posting this interesting story in our community. It effectively traces the psychological crisis of a woman suffering from profound grief.
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Hello, thank you very much for the welcome and support to my story, it is an honor that the leaders comment me and give me this warm welcome. I know, I have not commented much to say because of problems outside of hive and the little time I use to write and publish. But I promise to commit myself even more and comment, vote and reblog. It is logical that we should all contribute and grow together, so I will try to be more active
And thanks again for your support. Best regards and a hug
Hello @sirpoe,
I found this story most interesting. You blur the lines between perception and reality in a way that might occur in a person undergoing a psychological crisis. This is intriguing in your story. The experiment with switching pronouns is a bit confusing, though in the end the true state of affairs becomes obvious. The narrator's reluctance to use pills is our final clue that she is suffering some sort of psychological rupture occasioned by grief.
This is an original approach. I look forward to reading more stories from you. (I have left you a small tip instead of a vote because my voting power is depleted.)
Hello friend, first of all thanks for the support, I really appreciate your words and for taking the time to read me. It's nice to read that someone is interested in your story
For this story I read about some cases of dementia, obsession and delusions. I'm not an expert in this concept, but I'm a big fan of this kind of stories, I don't know if it's sadism or a weird fascination. I also mix my tastes, because I love endings that are not happy, endings where the reader feels the suffering of the character or is immersed in the emotions of the characters. I would have liked to put more of those horrible things that our mind comes to suffer, and thus create a message that there are people who are having a worse time than many of us. I know it's a bit harsh, but the more impact the message has, the better. Greetings and thank you very much for your support, hugs
Thanks for the tip!
It is interesting this voice that narrates after his death, as he watches his fiancée in a wait that will never be fulfilled.
The voice can see her fully, in her illusion, in her waiting and in the confrontation of the truth.
It's a good narrative exercise, @sirpoe .
Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story, I'm glad you liked it. I will be trying to publish this kind of story, as long as I keep learning and enjoying other stories. A hug for you
Hello, welcome.
Someone who experiencing grief, so she's talking to herself as if comforting her. A sad story which made me hoping I was there. lol
By the way I love it. I'm sorry in advance if my understandings of your story is wrong. This is just how I understood what's that woman telling about.
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