When he told me he was leaving,I felt like a vase which has just smashed.There were pieces of me all over the tidy floor.He kept talking,telling me why he was leaving,explaining it was for the best.I could do better.It was his fault and not mine.I had heard it before many times and yet somehow was still not immune;perhaps one did not become immune to such felony.

He left and I tried to get on with my life.I filled the kettle and put it on to boil.I took out my old red mug and filled it with coffee,watching as each coffee granule slipped into the china.That was what my life had been like,endless coffee granules,somehow never managing to make that cup of coffee.

Somehow when the kettle piped its finishing warning I pretended not to hear it.That's what Mike's leaving had been like,sudden and with an awful finality.I would rather just wallow in uncertainty than have things finished.I laughed at myself.Imagine getting philosophical and sentimental about a mug of coffee.I must be getting old.

And yet it was a young woman who stared back at me from the mirror.A young woman full of hope,a young woman with bright eyes and full lips,just waiting to take on the world.I never loved Mike anyway.Besides,there are more important things.More important than love,I insist to myself firmly.The lid goes back on the coffee just like closure on the whole Mike experience.

He doesn't haunt my dreams as I feared that night.Instead I am flying far across fields and woods,looking down on those below me.Suddenly I fall to the ground and it is only when I wake up that I realize I was shot by a hunter,brought down by the burden of not the bullet but the soul of the man who shot it.I realize later,with some degree of understanding,that Mike was the hunter holding me down and I am the bird that longs to fly.The next night my dream is similar to the previous night's,but without the hunter.I fly free until I meet another bird who flies with me in perfect harmony.I realize with some relief that there is a bird out there for me,and there is another person,not necessarily a lover perhaps just a friend,but there is someone out there who is my soul mate.

I think about being a broken vase again and realize that I have glued myself back together.What Mike has is merely a little part of my time,a little understanding of my physical being.He has only a little piece of me.

我生命歷程的一段記憶

他告訴我他要離開時，我就像只剛摔碎的花瓶，支離破碎的我散落在潔凈的地面上。他不停地勸說著，告訴我他離開的原因，解釋說這會是最好的結局。我本可以表現得更好些，畢竟，錯在他不在我。這些話我已經聽了很多次了，但莫名其妙的是，我仍不能冷靜面對；或許如此痛苦，誰都無法冷靜面對。

他走了，而我要盡力把自己的生活支撐下去。我把水壺灌滿并打開火燒水。我取出那只紅色的舊杯子，倒滿咖啡，注視著每一粒咖啡滑落進陶瓷杯內。我的生活就如同這咖啡，一粒又一粒的咖啡卻怎么也沖泡不成一杯咖啡。

不知何故，水壺尖厲地發出警報聲，我假裝沒有聽到。這就是邁克離開的情形，那么突然，帶著極度的痛苦。我寧愿陷入將信將疑之中，也不愿將事情做一了結。我嘲笑自己，我對一杯咖啡的遐想竟然理性而感傷，我一定是老了。

然而，的確有一個女人從鏡子里注視著我。一個滿懷希望的青年女子，雙眸閃爍，嘴唇豐盈，蠢蠢欲動正準備駕馭這個世界。畢竟，我從未愛過邁克。而且，還有其他更重要的事情，比愛情更重要，我向自己強調著。杯蓋回到咖啡杯上，好似給了邁克這段經歷一個終結。

那天晚上，他并沒有像我擔心的那樣縈繞在我的夢里。相反，我飛得很遠，飛過片片田野和叢林，俯瞰身下的一切。突然，我掉在地面上。就在我醒來的那一刻，我發覺我被獵人射中，擊倒我的不是子彈，而是射出子彈的那個人的靈魂。隨即，我帶著幾分醒悟，意識到，邁克正是那個掠我下來的獵人，而我就是那只渴望飛翔的鳥。第二天晚上，我的夢與前夜的夢差不多，但沒有獵人出現。我自由飛翔，直至遇到另一只鳥，它與我飛得是那樣和諧平靜。我稍稍釋然，畢竟有只鳥為我出現在夢里，會有另一個人，不見得是情人，或許僅僅是朋友，但會有某個人在那里成為我靈魂的伴侶。

我又一次想象自己成了一只碎花瓶，感覺到我已把自己黏合完整。邁克呢，只是我生命的一小段歷程，是我對自己的一點認識。他占據的只是我生命的一小段記憶。