“Souls cross the skies of time, like clouds crossing the skies of the world.”
David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas.
Charcoal drawing by Suzanne Starr
She sits and waits; a traveller.
He sits, arms folded, staring into space where for him there is now only the present.
Time stretches away. Infinite co-ordinates undefined. Souls slip past each other.
She stares at a wall, across tracks she cannot see; the tracks of time.
The tracks of my tears.
For I am that girl with no past and no future and I am waiting for you.
We agreed we’d meet, that we’d find each other. On the other side.
– Do you believe in reincarnation?
– Do you think we come back as ghosts?
– If we do, shall we meet?
– We’ll need to arrange where and when.
– Each other’s birthdays?
– Will you remember?
– Of course.
– Where then?
– I don’t know.
– We can decide later, there’s plenty of time.
We never did decide, did we?