Writers Abroad Magazine Issue 7 November 2017 | Page 29

WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE: THE THIRD SPACE
A SILVER REFLECTION
BY Crilly O’Neill
Jenny plunged the saucepan into the sink and stared out of the kitchen window.
She wondered when things had become so humdrum. As if life was a carousel
but she wasn’t on it.
Twenty-five years of routine and for what? Did anyone know what she really
thought? Would the family remember?
Her mind flashed back. The coffee shop in town. A place she hadn’t been to
before but would never go to again.
She couldn’t get him out of her mind. Had that moment really been brief? Did
she imagine he held the look a little too long?
The effect was visceral, she felt alive as if her body was smiling inside. A feeling
she had almost forgotten.
Now, she could not smell coffee without thinking of him.
The warm water in the sink soothed her. Staring at the bubbles
in the bowl, she felt her shoulders relax. Shaking the water from
the saucepan, she clutched it to her chest, droplets seeped into her
shirt but she didn’t care. Stepping away and closing her eyes, Jenny began to
dance.
The music swirled in her head. It was the song playing the day
she saw him.
In her mind he was holding her, pressing his body against hers.
She began to hum; the music grew faster. She twirled and spun, her
feet barely touching the floor. For a moment she was twenty again, his age
probably. Her waist was slim; her face unlined and her cinnamon-coloured hair
shone in the winter sun warming the room.
She didn’t know his name but knew the warmth of his touch. His fingers
brushed hers when passing the coffee.
Footsteps in the hall made her jump.
Jenny stopped dancing and opened her eyes. The reflection of a middle-aged
woman in the saucepan looked back.
'Happy Anniversary,' said Michael, as he walked into the kitchen. A bouquet
of long-stemmed red roses clutched in his hand.
28 | NOVEMBER 2017