Guiltily he picks at a hole in the knee of his jeans and looks up from that same daydream once again, while something unseen moves through the room which leaves his stomach tense and lip bitten.
Nothing will take away the past, but no matter how long ago it was, in the mind it is but a moment ago, vivid, real, reinforced by countless hours reliving the same memories. He shudders and pulls the blanket around his shoulders, staring back into the void.
There is no peace from the labyrinth once you cross the threshold, once you lose your way. He knows that the only way out is to go forward, but what horrors it contains he cannot tell.
The void calls once more, the delicate seduction of the voice of memory, that sweet oblivion of self-destruction.
“Come to me my love, and we shall walk together again. All you have to do is remember how it felt.”
He tries to resist but the memories are strong, beautiful, sweet memories of sunlight and summer days, walking gently through the park while the wind dances in her hair and her skirts flow like waterfalls of silk.
His resolve is undone, and drifting ever on in her arms he remembers the taste of strawberries on her lips, gently mixed with champagne.
The cold creeps in under the edge of the blanket, but he remains unaware, its tendrils wrapping around his throat, sneaking under his clothes until he starts to fall asleep.
‘So tired now,’ he thinks. ‘Perhaps we should go indoors?‘
‘No, stay with me here, my love. Stay with me and hold me, don’t ever let me go.’