‘i meant to give her these last week,’ he said quietly and to himself, sliding the lid from a white box containing a pair of small pearl earrings.
he exhaled through his nostrils, his shoulders slumping in time with the exhalation.
he held the now open box, top forgotten on the coffee table over which he stood, shins close to one corner, eyes washing over the pearls, as if expecting them to move, speak, advise.
they caught well the light of the room,
but the earrings did not speak.
he leaned over, left hand fumbling for the box top, eyes still on the pair of pearls.
stubborn, they were,
and silent they remained
though perfect, he hoped, for her.
‘this week,’ he said still quietly, placing the lid over the pearls.
he inhaled through his nostrils, his shoulders rising in time with the inhalation.
‘this week,’ he said more firmly.