by Romy Needham
illustration by Allen Forrest
After Sheila my only solace remained in the Yorkshire Moors. In the desolate hour before the dawn had any potential, I followed my grief.
On our stone I wept until she appeared in that blue dress, the one I bought her in the marketplace, the one that made me wish I might never see the sky again.
“You left me alone, Sheila.”
“It was for the best, my love. Next time will be easier.”
Now I’m too frail to find her in that hour and my own mind is making its way to a different world.
But when I remember that the sky has a colour, I go to the market and buy a dress.
published 15 October 2014