This piece is titled Ice
it is around 500 words in total.
this piece has been submitted as part of the RNIB's Writing Competition
The ice slowly melts in her glass.
She casts a fleeting glance to her phone, it arrogantly stare blankly back. Her eyes flicker to the glass, she resumes staring at the three disintegrating ice cubes. They lean against each other, there isn’t enough room in the cut glass tumbler. They are squashed in together, like battery chickens in a tiny coup. There isn’t any more liquid in the glass either. She had made it disappear in a blink of an eye. She felt sorry for the ice cubes. They were doomed to melt into one another, to become one being. Story of her life, really.
She keeps her eyes fixed on her glass, on the melting ice cubes inside. She could hear the clock ticking behind the bar, every so often it caught her eye and jerked her back to reality. With each second that passed, the noise seemed to be getting louder and louder until she could hear nothing else. She glances over her shoulder, eyes roaming over the other occupants in the dingy pub. Their lips moving as they conversed but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
All she could hear was the clock.
Turning her head, she glares at the clock. It was mocking her, the hands of time were laughing, reminding her of the passage of time as it slid unyielding through her fingertips.
He was late again. He’s always late, liked to keep her dangling on a thread until she’d almost given up and lost all hope, until she was collecting her things and beginning to head home. Then he would sweep in, without a care in the world and gather her into his arms as if nothing had happened. Her arrogant, self-absorbed knight in shining armour.
Six years. Six long years as one being and he couldn’t be arsed to show up for their anniversary. Leaving her alone and vulnerable, leaving her as he always did. Promising her everything and giving nothing. It is always the same routine. It never changes. She allows herself to be swept off her feet every single time, allows herself to be swayed by false promises and forced declarations of love. It happened again and again; the moment she saw him, the anger, the hatred, the resentment simply floated away as if it never existed.
Just like ice. It always melts into nothing, it never leaves a trace. Just like her husband.
No more. She was putting a stop to it.
Amelia raises her hand, oblivious to the tremors that shook her bones. The bartender steps over, leans on the bar and refills her glass for the third time. He tries to catch her eye, tries to offer support. She stares at the clock.
“John hasn’t showed up yet?” Danny asks, obviously a rhetorical question, but she shakes her head anyway. She stares at the ice cubes, happily bobbing away in their new found swimming pool. They clink softly against each other as they melt. Slowly, they disappear into the amber liquid. An odd bereft feeling sweeps over her, leaning goose bumps on her skin, like someone had just walked over her grave. Maybe they had.
Picking up the cool glass, Amelia knocks the liquid back, then slams the glass down on the wood. She finally catches the bartenders’ eye as the whisky burns the back of her throat. Glancing down, there is one small sliver of an ice cube left at the bottom of the glass.
“No,” she says, handing money over to the bartender and collecting her things. “I’m not waiting anymore.”