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DORMANT HUNGER Part One by BiScribble

When Martha died, raw chunks from my soul and heart descended into the ground with her coffin. Soon I will know closure, I reasoned. But time was so much longer than I thought. For months I had no interest in anything or anyone. My neighbor's wife called inquiring about my new address: the cave where I now lived.

After the funeral, Len did not call at all...and that hurt more than I thought it would.

Food was cardboard; any smile I had just cracked and curled into smirks and scowls. Any thought of sex was out of the question. Acute depression, my friends all said. Furtive whispers about the tragic loss of someone dear and loved. Biology and instinct had deserted me completely.

I brooded this way in silence for three months. No TV, stereo, books, movies, dinners out. Nothing seemed important, of any value. No energy, ambition....

Then one night, Len's picture stared at me from the soft-white mantle. It was an old one but I'd always loved his glowing smile - lively, piercing eyes; soft brown hair, like mine, that rippled easy on the wind. Quite stocky for his age, even then. ...

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