Click
11:54 AM
Click
by Starr Jiang
Click
by Starr Jiang
When Emma told her
second grade class during show and tell that her favorite sound was the click
of her front door opening, everyone laughed at her sincerity. The teacher
herself had to force away a smile, for she thought that the girl was joking.
Emma left the
front of the room politely after that incident, all at once understanding that
those around her would never be able to comprehend the presence of that click.
There was a certain rhythm and musicality in the sound that only she could perceive.
Always, it was preceded by two muffled thumps, a squeak of the doorknob, a
chime of the keys. A murmured sigh. But the click was most crucial, because it
was the moment when the door actually opened, revealing the one person she
longed to reach but never could.
Today, as she sat
in her living room after school, she awaited the click as she had hundreds of
times before. Her eyes darted from her math homework to the old clock against
the wall. Tick…tick…tick. She willed
the minute hand to inch closer to the six, the broken hour hand to twitch
toward the seven. When the black arms finally reached their destinations, she
heard the thumps that marked her song.
Tick…tick…tick…
Click.
The room became
very quiet for a moment, and then the door heaved itself forward. It faltered
against the wall as a man walked in, his dark coat shrouding his large figure.
His eyes were bloodshot, and when he glared into the room, the door halted, as
if it had recognized its fear.
“Papa,” Emma
spoke, attempting to suppress the eagerness in her small voice, “it’s so good
to see you.”
The man glanced away from the voice and instead turned his head toward the dining table. He contemplated the various glass bottles that lay haphazardly across its surface, his eyes squinting as he scanned the hoard. Emma tried to comprehend their glassy luster.
Then nodding
suggestively, the man turned towards the gaping doorway and slipped into the
darkness. He turned once more and shut the door with finality.
Click.
Emma looked at the
numbers scrawled on her paper. She watched the equations fade in and out of
clarity as waves flooded her eyes. So much depended on the numbers that
balanced her figures. So much depended on the clock that held the time.
So much depended
on the simple click.
The clock
struggled toward nine when the thumps came again. The squeak of the doorknob.
The chime of the keys. A murmured sigh.
But no click.
Emma felt her
heart flutter. “Papa?” She cried into the void. She closed the space between
her and the door. Her hand was on the knob and she turned. It would not open.
“Papa!” She
screamed desperately. “Papa, where are you?”
“Emma,” a voice
trespassed the emptiness, “Emma, I’m here.”
“Papa…I’ve missed
you.”
“I’m here,” her
father said, “I’m sorry.”
Emma listened to
his breath against the door. She fell into it, and lost herself in its tremor.
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