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The Kaleidoscope
The kaleidoscope trembled in his hands, and he ran his fingers over the peeling sticker on the side, a star with the edges coming off one by one, like a hesitant child learning how to walk. Even though he couldn’t see the twirling images of pink and orange, like a sunset in the midst of fireworks, he still enjoyed running his fingers over the smooth surface, and the groove between the surface where he could turn the cylindrical object. He couldn’t see the dancing images with his eyes, but he could still feel the sunset in his mind, and remember it. The man stood up. He placed the kaleidoscope on the dresser beside his bed. By now, he was so accustomed to this action that he didn’t worry about dropping the kaleidoscope or losing it; it was always in the same place. He liked to hold it at night, right before he fell asleep, and pretend that he was holding the stars.
It was the middle of the afternoon now. He didn’t usually feel the need to hold the kaleidoscope at this time He was just shaken, shaken by her voice on the answering machine, a reminder of when he’d been younger and freer, less worried about the consequences of his actions. Hell, he’d never looked before he lept and wasn’t that ironic now, when he couldn’t look before he lept even if he wanted to.
Her voice washed over his apartment like water, pure and yet suffocating. She liked to roll her “R”s and he remembered sitting in coffee shops with her, hypnotized by her voice and her hands which would gesture whenever she was passionate. His throat got tight - she wanted to meet up for coffee now.
It was years later. He wasn’t the same person he had been. She wouldn’t recognize him. He didn’t think he’d be able to take it if he met up with her only to hear that her voice had changed over the years. With a pounding heart, he searched for the delete button on his answering machine, and pressed it, hard. He felt the beep register in the air and in his fingers.
With a sigh, the man picked up the kaleidoscope again, and started spinning.
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