I have so many things that I could write about this honeycomb. My semi-despair at the never-depleting vat of chestnut honey from which the honeycomb draws its earth, mellow flavour.
The delighted expressions that adorned our faces when the bicarbonate of soda was added to the mixture and golden bubbles abounded.
The Bean’s cheeky chocolate-covered grin as she stuck the pair of chopsticks I’d given to her for dipping with straight into her mouth instead.
But instead, my mind is full of other words. Spoken and unspoken. Words uttered in amongst a sea of frustration and misunderstanding. Words spoken for the sake of keeping the peace.
Words unspoken for the very same reason.
And then silence.
Silence in place of the words that used to tumble and stutter and fly through the air. Words left unanswered, hanging in the emptiness of a room that once held two. Words accumulating on message bank memories and on the translucent pages of a letter hand-delivered in a downpour to the mailbox of an empty apartment, its door firmly locked, the bell unanswered.
CONTINUE
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