It had been there as long as I could remember. Its china is painted with beautiful pastels, blue, orange, pink, and green, with accents of a deep, rich brown. Still shiny after all this time. The staff here must maintain it regularly, perhaps daily.
I could do better.
The first time I came across it, my eye was caught, almost immediately. I was eight years old, and visiting a history museum. I don’t remember where it’s from, probably some Asian country. I thought- I still think -it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It called to me, it’s swirling blues, oranges, pinks, greens, and browns. I wanted to take it home, but it was encased in a protected glass cube. So I settled to stare at it until the place closed.
And I came back the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
Almost every day for 20 years.
There were days I was forced to be parted from my beauty. Family events, holidays, and such. On those days, I was in agony. I wanted, I needed to see her. I could not live without her. She was, is, my life.
I don’t have those problems anymore. I stopped going to those events years ago. In fact, I’ve been thinking about quitting my part-time job, just so my every waking hour can be spent in her wondrous presence.
“The museum is now closing. Please make your way to the exit, and have a nice day!”
The announcement blared from the speakers, rudely interrupting my thoughts. “Goodbye, my sweet,” I whispered to her, gently touching the blasted glass prison she was cruelly trapped in, “I will see you again soon…”
Ripping myself from her entrancing gaze, I begrudgingly limped away, pausing to blow her a kiss before I left. I realized too late, on the bus home, that she would never receive my sentiment, that cursed glass cage kept it from her.
The next day at work, like most, was excruciatingly long. Does the universe not understand that I simply cannot wait to be in her presence? 3 hours left… My boss is giving me a lecture, I do not remember why. 2 hours left… Ouch! I spilled the customer’s coffee. Whatever, just give them some hot water. 1 hour left… My leg is turning red. I do not care, I need to be with her. 30 minutes left… I am limping worse than ever, did I spill the coffee on my bad leg? 10 minutes left… Time seems to be slowing down. Is it slowing down? Am I crazy? 5 minutes left… The more I wait, the more my desire to be with her grows. 1 minute left… So close so close so close-
And we’re done.
A coworker says something, but I don’t care. I am already flying out the door, despite my permanently lame and newly burnt leg, out to the bus. It’s not here. I cannot wait for it. So off I sprint, as fast as I can, and faster, faster, faster, faster. I tear down the street, whirling around corners and not stopping for pedestrians. I push them over. I do not care. I need to be with her. I need her. I need her.
I nearly ran past it. It’s on the other side of the street. I hesitate for just a moment. A mistake. The delay causes my heart to shudder in pain. I must get to her. I run out into the street, are cars coming? I do not care.
And I’m gone. A husk of a man on the street.
But I am still with her. Her and her five other husbands. But strangely, I only know them as Blue, Orange, Pink, Green, and Brown. What’s even stranger is that I cannot remember my name. They call me Yellow now.
But that doesn’t matter.
I am with her now, her graceful, divine self.
I am happy.