It’s like that bitter taste on your tongue from a B grade bottle of wine she thought as she recalled the day’s events. There’s a mix bag of catharsis and excitement in filling in all the words into the blank spaces like a test you know all the answers to. Tap, tap, tap the loose sheets on the table to align them all perfectly before adding the staple in the upper right hand corner. I should feel something she thought or did she say it aloud? Closure? Is that what I was looking for? Seeking to accomplish? Because for that split second as the papers tucked neatly into the single pocket folder, a sigh of relief escaped her lungs, but before it could be acknowledged or enjoyed, a renewed sense of emptiness returned in its space. Oh the songs about her, she’ll never hear again, the Global Martin’s gentle hum that sang the soft lullabies to drown out the long days and bring sleep like a gentle whisper. It was gone, but it had been gone for such a long time it seemed odd for the onset of stir in emotions. It’s a loss everyone had said. But no. It was something far more vain than that. She’d lost. For the very first time and it wasn’t because she was defeated. It was simply because she put the ball down in the middle of the court and walked away to take a shower. Once her skin was glistening and her hair a different color, she returned to the court to finish the “game,” but the ball was gone and the crowd was filing out the stadium doors to return to their cars and drive home. But where was her home now? And mind ablaze, if she’d just held onto the ball what would the story be? What would have happened? And somewhere in another universe, she makes a different decision and walks a different path and the doors just continue to open and the light flows in and she hears it. Her name. Over and over like a Gregorian chant pulsing against her eardrums like a heartbeat. The broken puzzle of memories begin to move and snap into place filling her soul like a breath of fresh air. The universe settles as her breath deepens and the corners of her mouth begin to curl upward; her eyes open and she realizes she will never lose again. And it’s over. It’s finally over. The flame beneath the scar is blown out like a candle on a birthday cake completing the wish. It’s not a secret anymore. She can place it on the bookshelf for everyone to see and smile when someone wants to read it.