Nothing

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There was so much of nothing in the space between them.

A chasm, thick with emptiness.

Filled with words that never connected.

And “nothing” had become a weapon in a cruel game.

Where the plot was, whoever could say the most while showing the least would win.

With a twist of complicated side-stepping.

Dodging any realness that accidentally escaped from the players.

Because somewhere along the line avoidance had become the polite thing to do.

A learned behavior where silence epitomized good manners.

And their voices echoed across the distance of a dinner table, making conversations difficult.

While their children looked on.

Learning the rules of the game.

 

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9 thoughts on “Nothing

  1. While reading this, I pictured children made of stone, seated around the dinner table, wearing blank expressions but looking upwards into the faces of adults frozen in place- their own expressions stolid… ashes spilling off their heads… a wind blew the ashes onto their bodies and down onto the table… onto their plates laden with food made of stone and more ashes. Don’t know why but it conjured up that image… guess it’s the power in the piece ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. Wow! I love the imagery, Carmen!! Thank you for sharing that with me. I love how visual you made the scene. You gave it an even deeper element. ๐Ÿ™‚

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