[ WP ] The Little Black Box

The woman ’ s hand shakes quietly, almost politely, as if it realizes the inconvenience that the shaking gives the owner of the hands that if affects. He notices the microscopic fluctuations and surreptitiously puts his hands over hers, a gesture of soft devotion matched only by the warmth in his eyes. 
 This unassuming display of affection is missed by the boy, engrossed as he is in an epic-nailbiting- legendary game of what is apparently Mario Kart. 
 
 As many times as I view this scene, I still do not know what it means. 
 
 The woman glances at the man and smiles, an inner smile that does not burst out in happiness but rather warms the receiver from head to toe. 
 It is reserved for the man and the boy. 
 The boy, who continues to be stubbornly oblivious of this scene. Something which the man notices, as he frowns and words twist out of his mouth, causing the game to be sullenly placed on the floor. 
 Staring straight ahead, the woman grimaces and I see the man grab for a box and press down on it. I see grey and white. 
 
 It is night again, I can tell because the light from various lamps cast shadows over the people ’ s faces. The boy ’ s eyelids droop and frantically open up as he stares straight ahead. He leans against the woman but as he is much bigger than her, his head keeps drooping and his arms cover her like tree branches. It looks uncomfortable, yet the woman does not move; rather, she shifts ever so slightly every time the boy stirs. The man is on another chair, arms splayed out and mouth open as a noise like a construction crew issues out of him. The scene does not change until the woman carefully untangles herself from the boy ’ s limb and lays his head on the couch ’ s pillow, bringing over a blanket to cover him. The boy murmurs and smiles. What seems to be shortly after, the man wakes with a start, blinks, and looks at the couch. With a tenderness that defies the strength needed to perform the act, he picks up the boy, making sure to keep the blanket in place, stopping only to grab the box with the button. I fizzle into static nothingness. 
 
 Today is different. I can not explain why, only that the woman is different. She… shines. She smiles without any hiddenness, though the shaking continues. The man smiles more easily, the boy plays his game less. They sit in front of me, laughing, talking. Less than before and yet I can still see the difference. But I do not know why, I only know what is put in front me. It is a story with pieces missing. I do not know where the pieces go, nor how they fit in the puzzle. Only that they are missing. It is almost a relief when I see the man reach for the box. The feeling of missing pieces almost consumes me. When the grey and white invade, my only thought is an uncomfortable one: maybe I am made to only see and not understand. 
 
 The woman ’ s shaking has almost stopped, she shines more now. She also sits in front of me less. Still, I watch and take what I can. I still see the boy hiding bags of food in the couch then guiltily clearing it out. I still see the man do pushups and sit-ups and all manner of exercises that I ( and apparently the woman and boy ) find bizarre. I still see the man and woman look at each other in silent affection as the boy remains ignorant, not from choice but through youth. 
 
 The magic button is pushed and I am fading. Try as I might, I still can not fathom this moment, this singular happening in time that seems to say so much and yet I am deaf to its lesson. The woman turns her head to the unseen man; I want to continue the scene, to see more. But I can ’ t move, I am stuck; a fixed point, an insignificant being made to be viewed but never see clearly. The boy has since stopped paying attention and is back to his game. I want to yell at him to ask what is happening, to tell him that he has the great ability to look and it ’ s not fair that he isn ’ t. I pound and pound on an invisible wall, but my world is crackling grey and white. 
 The last thing I see is the boy looking up as the woman wraps her arms around him, leading him out of his chair. Laughing, they walk out of my view. 
 Try as I might, I can not go, for they are a family and I am stuck here, watching as the scene quietly fades to black. 
 
 
 
 

