Entangled lives

“Howard! Have you seen my necklace?” A delicate voice rang out from the last door on the right. The silver bell of a voice was paired with a silver bell of a woman. The voice was accompanied by the sounds of brushing her long silky pale hair that shined like the full moon glowing at the highest point in the summer night skies. A soft diaphanous dressed woman sat at her vanity looking over herself for the hundredth time this evening. She was dressed in pale blues and greys that melted into one another when she moved. Her skin looked like porcelain without a bump, crease, or wrinkle out of place. Her face was long and slender but not without its beauty. Her hair was a pale yellow that glowed in the light. Part of it fell down her shoulder blade, like silk on her satin skin. The other part was held up being prepared for the late evening routine.

With every breath, an air of elegance flows from her lungs. Standing up, swaying her long flowing dress, she made her way to the door. Peering out into the hallway, Mrs. Conway pondered where her husband had wandered off to this evening. Flipping her hair over her perfect shoulders, she returned back to her stool. After double-checking her skin, then her hair, she applies a thick layer of pungent perfume. It fills the air with an invisible pillowing like smoke.

“Honey!” Mr. Conway calls from the foyer. His voice sounded like the smooth flow of cigar smoke, but with the harsh gravel of the burn. Between a grumble and a huff, he adjusted his shirt cuffs. His footsteps fell heavily on their furnished oak floors. Strands of his salt and pepper well-kempt hair started slipping from its lightly greased trap. Stomping his way up the large staircase envelope in hand.

Mr. Conway’s large hands crushed the envelope easily in his palm. He reached the hallway where his dear sweet Penelope was. Mr. Conway only slowed his pace when he heard her sweet hum spilling out of the last door on the right.

“Honey, we have a letter…” Mr. Conway practically tiptoed his way over and peered inside. Just as he arrived the humming stopped abruptly. “Penny…” with the light barely on leaving just enough to take away the imagination, Penelope sat there, frozen still, she crept her head around like an owl. Her body was frozen but her neck cracked and creaked from her neck and those teaspoon eyes turned into saucers. All of what color was left on her face had now vanished and she stood there, staring. Eventually, she darted her eyes to the envelope and then back at her husband.

“Honey….” The sound barely left Howard’s throat. When he opened his mouth to speak another word from his lips all he was met was the sound of a silver bell.

“I heard you. Is it…?” Penelope Conway’s voice could cut through glass, filled with fear and dripping with doubt. Howard Conway looked down halfway before nodding.

They both stood there looking at each other in the bedroom, nothing was stirring around them, but they were panicking around fields of fear and endless painful possibilities.

The looming fog of gloom cast over the couple. With nothing to do, yet everything to prepare they sat on a bench together. Delicately, Howard held her hands, if for nothing other than to give her his warmth. The crumpled-up letter was left on top of the plush large bed, the wax started peeling.

A sigh was the only sound to escape from their lips.