The Page

The torn page of a book -
The book she gave him for his birthday -
an ancient tome he hugged and slept,
the book that saw his night-time fears -
episodes of sleep paralysis, REM moments, nightmares, images creeping up from the subconscious;

The page was all she could salvage from his fire-eaten home,
it was lying amid charred remains of many other books, some vinyl records, an old gramophone,
antique furniture he collected from across the country,
shreds of replica Van Gogh and Edvard Munch and Marc Chagall,
boring household utilities - what use were they now? -
that page she picked up, before the officer asked her if she knew the man lying dead on the burnt bed.

The page knew more about him that she ever would.