Filed under: Разкази
She dragged and dropped the ready file in the new folder. Composing of topics was not her cup of tea. It was another kettle of fish – it was a pretty kettle of fish.
The hook has pierced her mouth. Seconds of painful tension. No sound but the warbling of water. Silent groan. Of my soul.
So was it what Jesus compared the capturing of souls with? Is fishing with net any better?
The choice is not permanent then. It is a single action, a single click in your mind. “Click.” You are captured. You have no choice then, but to follow the one who had captured you. There is an invisible string between you two. Invisible but strong. Through it she feels your movements – as much as you feel hers.
– She can’t even scream.
– She can.
– The fish, I mean.
– The fact that you can’t hear her doesn’t make her dumb.
– You’re right.
Yes, he is right. We are unable to percept the elephants’ voices when they call a peer some dozens kilometres away. Have you heard such a call? Have you recognised it?
– Can you hear her talk?
He is silent. Something strange happens with men when they fish. Their whole being is gradually involved, they transform and seem to feel delight. Some bitter delight. Men do not like sharing emotion. Not in the way a woman does. Men do not like sharing.
– What did she say?
He is absolutely absorbed. Does he need to transform his senses to hear her? Has he? Is it why he cannot hear me.
Does he love me. I feel so desolate when I think he does not. I feel so desperate.
I feel so desperate, because I cannot reach his heart. He is catching fish. He might not want to be caught. Why is he silent? The fact that you can’t hear him doesn’t mean he isn’t speaking.
– What did you say?
– What have you just said? In your mind.
– Oh, nothing. I was just thinking of the reflection of light.
– Because the water was like a mirror.
– What did she tell you?
– The water.
– Take care.
– She really did?
– Take care, you almost sat on my sandwich.
Why do men like capturing things? Why do they need some trophy? Why do they need lots of trophies and why do they need to have top ten of everything?
Does he love me?
– Why can’t we communicate normally?
– How do you mean?
– You don’t want to talk to me.
– I think of talking to you, but what can I say…
– You’re avoiding me.
– No, I don’t. I promise.
He pulls her into his boat. And makes a step back. Is it some atavistic fear? Or is it subconscious respect?
There is no way back for her. She has made her choice. She had devoured that irresolvable poison. She has decided for the click.
Is it difficult to die alone? Is it difficult to die unembraced?
I look in her eye for the answers. It is the same as his. Part of her soul will dwell there. In him. Forever. Is he aware? This part will change him. He might forget. Is he aware?
I will know what this little wrinkle on his face stays for.
– What are you doing?!
– I’m giving her a second chance.
Would she take her eye back. He makes a step forward, towards her, towards the splash in the water. He covers his eye with his hand. There is already a string between them. Invisible but strong. Neither can escape from the other. She will look for him here. She will look for his irresolvable poison. She may swallow a similar one. With the hope he would hold her again in his hands. Yet it will be another fisherman. And she will die. Unembraced. Uncalmed. Unable. Unnoticed. Handless. Loveless. Breathless. Hopeless.
With her, a part of him will die. The part she dragged that day with her.
– You are a curious woman.
– And you are a curious man.
Silence is not golden. It is silverfish in appearance. Silky. And smooth. You can slide on its surface. The things you will draw will remain on it. For a while. Like the words. Of a fish.
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