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Secrets Unveiled
A sight: a strip of light, amongst other things
It falls upon an old broken clock
and glass frame
Torn and frayed edges line the photo encased in the smudged glass
Curios fingertips wipe away the years of dust
Three solemn faces stare in return
A man
A woman
A child
Dressed in black pants and plain shirts
The woman in a faded and worn dress
they sit together, at least within feet of each other
But no sense of affection radiates, only a cold chill
The fingertips tremble, the frame slips like a bar of soap
Hitting the attic floor, the glass shield shatters, scattering pieces of broken light around bent knees
Kneeling down, a hand reaches for a small piece of paper on the back of the stale photograph
It's folded and yellowing
Sensitive to the touch, quivering as its creases are opened
Prying eyes widen and wash over the paper's surface
Again, trembling fingertips let slip the fragment of paper
It flutters to the floor, sprinkled with glass shards, with a soft crinkle
Disbelief shadows the readers eyes, and her fingertips brush against her cheek then to her lips
Even as the light cast from the sun leaves the attic in a bath of gold, a cold dark feeling fills the room
The old clock refuses to tick even as the moments go by in a hush
The old hands are bent and the numbers are faded
Much like the photograph
Worn and forgotten, the wooden clock rots and the note gathers dust
Much like the man, woman and the child; dressed for a vapid occasion
With serious dispositions, and a dark
dark
past
A history, concealed in the back of a battered, glass frame and left alone for too many summers