There is a secret room. Hidden behind a secret door, it is dusty and stale. Smells of old cigarettes and perfume hit your face as you walk in. The furniture is mid-century. But which century? Some pieces are covered with sheets, some are left uncovered to collect the fine layer
of dust. Nothing has been touched for so long, yet it looks recently occupied. The light shines through a filmy window, somehow unnoticed from the outside. There are no books or old newspapers, no evidence of a life once lived. No time references, no dead flowers. Just dust. Broken memories hang in the ether, some of them playing out in my mind. Was I here? I have lived in this house for so long. How could I have missed this room? I want to stay here and ask so many questions. But the light is fading, and it is time to go.
BRIAN GREENE earns his living playing the oboe and English horn in the Hawaii Symphony, but is secretly a writer, poet and abstract artist. He also dabbles in making fused glass bowls, tries to make artistically pleasing and tasty vegan food, and is a Reiki Master. He is currently working on a biography of his mother and aunt who were child stars on the Buffalo, NY vaudeville stage during the Great Depression.