Lost

It is like a child's birthday party buffet; sausage rolls and ham sandwiches under clingfilm, crisps in bowls. The room is filled with people wearing the darkest clothes they could find; smells of quickly smoked cigarettes and talc dust perfumes. Rain outside makes them all speak too loud. There are only seats for the oldest. I know none of the people who shake my hand and kiss my cheek.

I stand hands loose at my sides, an invisible pole around which all rotates. Everything is different. Even filled with people the house seems immense. I do not move, afraid that through the door instead of the kitchen I will find an infinite echoing hall, set for a banquet, every place unoccupied.

I am wearing a tie. I have not worn a tie since school.  

I cannot imagine her body. I know already I have made a mistake. I should have touched her cold skin but instead somehow I have hidden her inside the maze of my body ready to be recovered if I can just find the right map, the correct words.

A woman runs her hand down my forearm and says "She was a good woman."

"Yes," I say