| “Lakeshore” He sits by the side of the lake, his mask beside him, holding his head in his hands, weeping. He looks up. “Why have you come here?” he yells. “I did not send for you!” “You didn’t have to.” “Leave me,” he turns away, replacing the mask, “you are not wanted.” “Nevertheless, it is done.” “Why can you not do what is asked of you?” He is angry again. “You come when I do not wish for your presence and vanish when you are needed. Why?” Silence, then. “Do you love her?” “That is none of your concern,” he shoots back. “Answer the question.” “Of course I love her, but what will that accomplish? She is lost to me forever.” “Perhaps not. Perhaps it will accomplish more than you know.” He starts to walk away. “Don’t you turn your back! Explain why you love her.” “I will not! You are exceeding the bounds of decency with your insolence!” His temper flares once more. “You * will * explain. Why do you love her? It is a simple question.” “That it is not. To explain my love for her, impossible! It is akin to explaining beauty in loving music, for she is music herself. A beautiful, haunting song that remains with me even after she is gone. She is the light in the darkness of my soul and so soft a glow I welcome her gentle presence. She is the delicate, floating melody in contrast to my somber harmony. She is loved as no woman has been loved before. I praise her name with my every breath. She is the very reason for my existence. Without her I have nothing, sheet music with nary a note. And now she is gone, what have I left to live for?” “You have everything.” “I have nothing,” he clenches his fists, turning away again, “I am nothing. She is my life, without her I am dead.” “You will live, look.” He turns and there she stands. “Christine,” her name escapes his lips like a prayer. “Erik,” she rushes forward, crying his name. “I- oh, Christine-“ “I have heard everything.” She holds him close; “I love you, too.” He is near tears again; “I know not what to say.” “Then simply hold me,” she replies. Awkwardly, unused to the sensation, he puts his arms around her. “Thank you,” he whispers. “All is as it was meant to be.” |