Words

He sat for a long time regarding the newspapers, the pad and pens she raised from the bag at her leg below the table and placed carefully between them.

She had imagined how long those nights must be, couldn’t imagine, as the train wound it's slow path through the silent paddocks.

“The guard said that was fine”, she said quietly, looking directly at him as he refused to return her look. “I remember how much you liked to work your way through the crosswords.”

He took the small pile of things in his hands at last and held them suspended just above the table, and she wondered for a moment if he would simply push them back towards her again. 

He ran one finger slowly along the edge of the pad of paper on top and then brought his arms down to his lap. He left his hands lightly resting on top, took a long breath in and out, and looked directly at his gran for the first time. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps you can write again. Write down some of these things, so we might understand.”

He flinched as she spoke, just a little yet she saw him move as if he suddenly filled the cavernous room. His eyes closed around those words and their colour was gone when he opened them again.

“I hope I didn’t upset you. I don’t know if I could ever understand how hard this must be.”

He smiled and reached out and placed his hand over hers at the edge of the small table.

“It’s not writing down these things gran. I always believed that I could write, because of you. But I’m here now, for a long time. It’s hard to believe anyone needs to hear anything from me now.”