Silent Through Fall Leaves: Young Love


Agon sat in his basement absorbed in his crossword puzzle. On his wall were those he’d completed making it look like it was a collage instead of concrete. In the background was a bubbling sound. It had taken almost a year for him to set up his network of beakers, pipets, flasks, and cylinders interconnected by more pipets and hoses all suspended above Bunsen burners. He had a pestle and mortar for ambience sake but he might use it, you never know. A glassblower by trade he managed to turn a nice profit anywhere he could set up be it carnival or fair, so it was nothing for him to indulge himself in his instruments expanding on them to his heart’s content until he had an ultimate, elaborate, and functional collection. In the left hand corner of the room was a to-scale likeness of his girlfriend made of glass. Kind of creepy but maybe he liked that better than a photo except she’d broken up with him; most people throw out photos or at least cut themselves out of the picture. The locals say after the breakup she up and disappeared and he was so devastated he couldn’t stand to be in town anymore so he moved. Gave cause to wonder why he kept a life-sized likeness of her in the house.


Agon completed the crossword; he pushed back from his desk studying the wall for the right place to mount it then stepped back in admiration. He walked to the end of his worktable, unclamped a hose and watched the liquid drip as if it were a TV program. He clamped it again, picked up the cylinder and swirled the substance around admiring its clarity and its consistency. There was a large brown spider making its way across the table. “Perfect!” Agon quickly snatched up a dropper and filled it, held it over the spider and covered it completely. The spider slowed, slowed and stopped. He looked up at the clock, counted 20 seconds and carefully put his finger to the spider, tapped it, picked it up and placed it on the palm of his hand. He broke into a big smile; it had been hardened in glass. He put it on a corner hutch among a display of knick-knacks. Grabbing an artist’s brush and the cylinder he walked over to the likeness speaking gently as he touched up some cracked places on her face. “You can never leave me,” he cooed. “We are forever. I’ve met someone like your BFF Sandy was. I’ll make her like you so you won’t be alone anymore.” He put his instruments down, picked up his cell, selected contacts and pressed “Natalie”.


He didn’t see the silent tear trickle over her smooth cheek.


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