For The Fear Of Losing You

It’s…it’s somewhere down this street, I’m sure it is. I’m sure I recognise these lights. No. Maybe not. It’s dark and there’s that strange feeling you get in a city at night. It’s hard to explain, that anxiousness, that undercurrent of fear. Everything feels unearthly, unnatural, when cast in that orange street light glow. Colour loses any real meaning, like you’re lost in a monochrome dream.

Where did you go? I’m sure you were here. The cars pass me by, just things, creatures, no faces seem to lurk behind the windows, they just reflect the lights and the shops and the streets. My own face stares back at me for a moment from the window of a taxi.

I should stop and ask someone. I’m lost. Or is it you that’s lost? Or have I merely lost you? I should ask for help. But the faces I see aren’t of real people. They’re after dark faces, all warmth drained from them, they look back at me and only reflect the night time fear. We project a wall at night, put up a defence, projected from each person and reflected and amplified. I will not talk to you if you do not talk to me. Break this rule and you must be a threat. So we move like islands through the night.

Islands do not move. Neither, it would seem, do I. Everything looks familiar, I have been here before. Lost. Where are you? This is a strange place and I am afraid.

There. You are there. And I hold you. Hold. Hold. Hold. So tight. Found.

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Ian Sharman
Ian is a freelance writer and artist. He founded Orang Utan Comics Studio with Peter Rogers in 2006, writes for their Eagle Award Nominated anthology Eleventh Hour and regularly inks for Panini’s Marvel Heroes comic.
Ian Sharman

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