Curtain call

Traumatized, sitting on the train, still holding the stained curtain rod.

Gerald’s life knocked him over the head, images flashed bright between starry lights: a setting sun, a warm, yellow room, two sets of scared but daring eyes.

The curtain, rod-less, was available to cover up, to buy some time.

He suddenly became aware of the curtain rod. His eyes caught it, his hand discovered it. At the next stop, before the doors closed, he tossed it out, and it clanged.

There it still lies, strong, stained, asleep. It knows it has been left, it knows it will be found.