He composed a design, in the same manner that he held Claire.
Attentive to every curve.
Each stroke, performed with care.
This is why the urgency of the heels, clattering in the corridor, did not resonate within his ear.
He looked up from his work.
Benjamin mustered what strength he had left,
Maxwell sat, without words.
“It’s okay, Ms. Olsson,” he stated calmly. “It’s okay. Thank you.”
Ms. Olsson observed the two men, uncertain of how to proceed. Slowly, yet confident in her mentor, she took hold of the door handle and closed the glass portal behind her.
Maxwell, still wearing a veil of astonishment, stood up. He approached the bearded man, whose face was flush red though chestnut whiskers.
The tattered trench coat and similarly unfamiliar garb.
Maxwell observed his friend and Benjamin stared back.
Though his lips quivered.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes burned, blurring with water.
As Maxwell stared, Benjamin took a step back.
He opened his coat.
Maxwell was slightly concerned.
Benjamin proceeded to unbutton his shirt. He was unrushed and deliberate, which was consistent with a man, Maxwell once knew.
Benjamin unfastened another button, halting at his abdomen. He placed a hand on each side of the shirt and bore his chest.
An elongated scar, ran from his upper left collar bone…
Across his heart,
Diagonally toward his right rib cage.
He stared at Maxwell, a trembled rage filling his eyes.
Maxwell observed the scar and its five years of correspondence.
He beheld his troubled friend.
Benjamin wanted to cry.
He wanted to expel an audible record of his sorrow.
He seemed to beseech his friend for his consent.
For his approval
And Maxwell stared back.
Implode. Part VI – DK