The Mannequin
Trevor wore his loneliness like a cloak. It permeated his skin turning it grey, his eyes lifeless and staring. When Jenny died from the cancer that ate her alive, he thought he would die too. He took his last breath with hers. Lung’s bursting, he was forced to breathe again.
‘No, no, no … not my Jenny’.
Eventually the Hospice staff convinced him to leave. He walked to the Tolstoy River bridge and stared at the black swirls below. His tears dripped off his face and into the water. The icy wind pushed at him, encouraging him to jump, but he couldn’t. Jenny fought so hard for her life that he couldn’t throw his away. His heart shattered, he made his way to the hushed, freezing apartment and fell shivering into bed.…