She gazed heavenward, the night's shrill wind and cutting cold
unaffecting.  The night clouds played shadows with the full moon,
green with venomous wrath.  What few stars could be seen 
twinkled, but their constellations were blurred, their meanings 
lost.

It was all a silent movie, outside the room she was in.  It was
bottled gently with thick glass, hard wood and pink frills.

Her hand brushed lightly a pillow.  A name immediately came to
mind, which she dispelled with violent denial.

Biting her lip, she moved amongst the empty pedestals and the 
barren stalls to the center of the room.

Beneath the pastel light, it seemed soft, relaxed, almost 
waiting.  But she knew that the empty crib would never be used, 
never to contain the love it had, in love, been constructed to
do.

She looked at it, not really seeing it, gawking at the void 
within the cushions, staring at the silence upon the sheets.
Her fingers traced the upholstered frame, caressing like a 
willowy lover thinking of a night that could never be.

He would have slept here, she knew.  The one she loved most,
loved last, would have spent his nights nestled in the
softness of her heart's cradle, blanketed with the silk folds 
of her womb.  She would gladly tradew all the others to have
him stay, and, in fact, she did - but the room remained empty,
and the crib lay bare.

"Because he talked," she muttered.  Because he talked, she 
loved him most.  It was his voice that came to her now, haunted 
her, teased her, kissed her.  She could close her eyes and 
imagine him talking to her now, sweet words of love and fairytale.

He did not, she knew, say any such.  He simply spoke.  It was her
fault - she had not shown her true love, never tried hard enough, 
never thought that losing him would be so easy...

She wiped her eyes, leaning on the cradle's frame.  His crib.  
His voice.  His love.  All she could not have.  His name.  The
least she could do to warm her on this cold night was his name on
her lips.  But the coldness within the room was more hollow than
the one without and bit into her without mercy.  And the only 
name she had to call him was one she herself gave him.

"Charlotte," she whispered, in vain.

***

Well, maybe I dare you to continue this...

Switch
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