Lethe sat cross-legged on the smooth, cold, concrete floor of the cellar. Her face shone golden in the light from the jars arrayed on the shelves in front of her. Each jar, a large clear glass vessel with a huge cork-jamb lid, contained what looked like three or four little fireflies. Not real fireflies, with their lurid green glow that you could only see clearly from the corner of your eye. These were Hollywood fireflies, little Tinkerbelles that glowed brightly orange like an incandescent bulb that has had the dimmer turned down a little. There were enough of them, in the forty or so jars stacked against the wall of the little cellar, to light it warmly and well enough to read by, if she had had a book with her.
She didn't. She just had in her hands one of the jars, with two of the fireflies flitting around silently inside. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Tomorrow she was meeting with Julian. He had been away for a week with work, and he had phoned earlier that evening.
"Can we meet at the park, at lunchtime, Ley. I need to talk to you about something."
She'd agreed eagerly and was keen to see him, but was puzzled at his serious tone. It had been, what, four months now. She was pretty sure he was 'the one'; he was handsome, and kind, and thoughtful, and they had fun. He was better than any other boyfriend, not that she could remember them very much.
Maybe he would suggest they move in together. Maybe he would ask her to...no. Really? Maybe. But he sounded so serious. She had asked him, "What's up?" but he refused to be drawn, and insisted he was jet-lagged and needed to get to bed, so she had let it ride.
Now she couldn't sleep. The thought of their meeting and it's possible consequences kept her tossing and turning until the alarm clock accusingly showed '2:00 AM' and she gave in, throwing on one of Julians big T-shirts she had stolen, padding down to the kitchen, and then through the little door behind the fold-away table and into the cellar.
She sat. She concentrated, coalescing the tumult of thoughts about tomorrow lunchtime into one. Ups, downs, proposals, rejections, career moves, illness, everything. Her forehead glowed preceptibly more, the golden light now emanating rather than merely reflecting. Gradually a new firefly formed on her forehead, before launching itself into the close, slightly damp air of the cellar. She watched it tumble about for a few seconds, before swiftly twisting the cork lid out and trapping the firefly inside with its compatriots. She contemplated it a few moments.
"I wonder what you were about," she said, before yawning widely. She replaced the jar, and went back to bed.
--
"Where are you? I've been waiting ages." Julian had sounded annoyed.
"I'm at work. Why?" Julian then told her, brusquely, that he was in the Park at their agreed meeting place, and needed to talk to her right now. She had denied all knowledge, but was due to break for lunch, and told him she'd hurry over.
Now she wished she had stayed put.
"It's not you. It's me."
She couldn't understand it. They were getting on great weren't they? She didn't know what to say.
"Why?" She could hear her voice, whiny, plaintive, toned by tears.
He had shrugged. Paused, too long. Sighed, and then finally said, "You just seem to be changing. Getting more, I don't know, distant. No, disconnected. You're simply not the girl I thought you were."
She couldn't speak. She just wept more. He looked ashen, haunted.
"I love you." She hadn't even realised she was talking until what she said registered in her mind.
"I know. I love you too. Well, I'll always love who you were. Sorry."
He got up, and walked away down the path. He didn't turn around, but she didn't watch him go, unable to stop staring at the small patch of pathway in front of her feet. She sat crying for a minute or two more. Then she stood up abruptly. She had to get home.
--
Lethe stood on the smooth, cold, tiled floor of her bathroom, and looked into the big vanity mirror over the sink. Her face was pale in the stark white light of the two fluorescent tubes either side of the mirror. Panda eyed, dark streaks down both cheeks, a face like one of those Harlequinn type dolls stared back at her. Her eyes widened in surprise. She'd been crying. Quite a lot.
"What on earth could that have been about?" she asked herself, as she ran hot water into the basin.
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