The Resolute Text

Eight years. It took her eight years to realise that this was never going to happen.

Foolishly, she felt that walking away first proved that she could have made things work if she had just stayed. She ignored the warning bells in her head. You're not cut out for this. People like you don't do this.

Of course, she didn't listen.

She just wanted to be normal. But, what is normal? She wanted to feel happy like she saw everyone else around her being so. She wanted that. Why was it so hard?

Then, she decided. She had to stop walking away. Or running away. She had to be there. In person, not as a virtual companion. She sucked at that, too, in any case. Even her several tamagotchi didn't have that privilege. Oh. That's why they never survived. 

So, she stayed. The next person who promised her the moon was the lucky one. Except he didn't have the moon within his reach. He didn't have even the sand beneath his feet. She still stayed. You can't run this time. Have faith.

It took her four years to understand how her faith had been misplaced. So, that's your biggest problem. Hmmm.

Her faith found a new home in her saviours. Moreover, they actually wanted her around. Not the way she was usually led to believe, or felt like she should believe, but for real. This was real. It still could be. She didn't think so. Not now.

Things were going great. Just fine. Till they realised that it really wasn't. She was oblivious to their awakening. She hadn't felt safe in years, she didn't want it to stop. Not just yet.

Which is probably why it stopped right then. When was the last time things actually went your way? She didn't need reminding.

It had to be too good to be true, I told you. They found ways of telling her. They were unsure, too. Perhaps, it was guilt, but they didn't back away all at once.

When they eventually did, she understood. It wasn't ever going to happen, was it? I didn't think so. You aren't one of them. They aren't like you.

But, that's what made them different. They were supposed to have accepted her difference. Understood that she functioned differently. That she didn't mean to hurt or harm. Try telling the crushed ant that about the friendly giant. God, even her stupidly long limbs kept hitting people in the face without actually meaning to. Of all the analogies you could make...sigh!

A wave of panic washed over her. She never was going to be able to do this. The wave subsided. Maybe, she didn't have to.

She didn't want to have to.

So, now she wouldn't. Problem solved. Really?

She sure hoped so.

First Date Woes

*Disclaimer: THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME. All dates with me are awesome. Just saying.

Outside her window, cars inched forward in the traffic jam. Sitting next to her, he absent-mindedly brushed lightly against her denim-clad thigh as his hand shifted the gear-stick. She felt a tiny surge of thrill, as he touched her, but she resolutely looked out of her window still. She wondered if he'd notice her curiosity in the world outside and ask her existential queries. Any question, actually. She might have as well been wishing for unicorns to dance for her.

The silence in the car was heavy, though she heard him hum an unfamiliar tune under his breath. It had been a minute since either of them cracked a terrible joke or said something uninteresting. It felt like years were rushing by. She wished he would hold her hand while the traffic wasn't moving. Or, maybe she could reach out to hold his: that was acceptable too, wasn't it? But, only if the traffic wasn't moving. That way, she could stop feeling guilty for being the cause of a probable accident.

Which song is this? It sounds lovely! You should ask him. Go on. Ask him. She glanced at him. He fussed with his hair, his foot tapping impatiently against the accelerator. He was clearly unaware of her looking at him. She wished she could say those words out loud. It would make a conversation at the very least, don't you think?Ask him about that perfume, why don't you? You should probably think of getting a bottle for yourself. Or, is that too creepy? She sighed out loud and silently gagged her mind. Unsuccessfully. Nice try.

"Do you want to get some beer?"

His voice startled her out of her reverie. Oh my, did he actually talk to you?

He looked at her with what she hoped was enthusiasm. Speak, idiot. Speak.

"Yes! I'd love to!" Great. Now you need to be drunk to say anything to him? Just great! Drunkard! She wished she knew how to shut up the mean inner voice.

"Great!" See even he thinks it's great you need alcohol to make conversation. "I know a place right around the corner." Okay. He's just saying that to hide his disgust.

She returned to her silent watch of the cars that wouldn't move, and he to his sweet humming. I'm never going to get that tune out of my head. You have to find out what it is! Come on!

She took a deep breath, taking a few seconds to formulate the question. It felt like she had forgotten the right words. How is this even hard for you? You've brought politicians to their knees. Okay, ONE politician. Wannabe politician. But, THIS is a simple city boy. Ugh. Seriously. I'M disgusted with you. Maybe you DO need that beer after all.

She ignored the rant. "Hey! That sounds really good, what song is it?" Now, was that really so hard?

He smiled at her. "You like it? It's a song I'm currently writing." He gave a short snort. "Maybe it won't be as good as you think it is now." She fell in love with that laugh. She wanted to hear it again. If only you were magic, you could make him laugh at your lameness.

"Are you kidding? I'm sure it'll come out well!" Yuck. Suck up to him, why don't you. "Why don't you sing some of it now, I could tell you if it's nice?" Oooh. Smooth. She patted herself on her back. Not.

He looked a little hesitant. Maybe he needs the beer more than you do. She laughed silently at that. "Come on, I'd love to hear it!"

He chuckled a bit, looking awkward. "Oh, alright. Here goes nothing." He cleared his throat and began to sing a melodious song, better than she had heard in a while. Something was off, though. It sounded incredibly sad for the mood. Who is he singing about? Who sings about a missing key to a lock, anyway?

He finished a verse of his song, looking shyly at her for feedback. She searched for the right compliment to pay him.

"Who was that about?"

He looked awkward, again, chuckling a lot more. It sounded nervous. She didn't think he knew how to be nervous. "That was, uhm, about..." He shot her a pleading look, begging her to understand.

She felt confused. What is that supposed to mean? ASK HIM AGAIN!

"Yes?"

Sighing with resignation, he looked away. "My ex-girlfriend." Uhm, WHUT. Her eyes were growing rounder by the second as she stared at him.

"What?"

"Yeah, I kind of wrote that about her."

Didn't he break up with her two years ago? "Wasn't she your girlfriend till about two years ago?" Or was he lying? Or was he...

"Yeah." His sheepish look was back in full force, as he avoided her stare. Oh, dear God.

She didn't know it was possible to feel sorry for this man. He was perfect till that second. Stop feeling sorry, idiot. Get out of here A-S-A-P! Oh, yeah. That.

"Oh. That's...weird. But, the song was good!" Now. Before the beer. "So. I, uhm..."

"You want me to drop you home, instead?" Hallelujah. Who would have thought? He understands.

"Yes, please!" I'd love to keep you around as a friend, though. You're gorgeous. You're useful. You have a car.

She let out a tiny laugh, feeling completely at ease. Nice to know you're not the only dork around, huh.

Amen.

The Lyrics to her Melody

She walked into the shop, the opening door making the tiny bell trill welcome her entry. The shopkeeper looked up from his newspaper, ready with a soft smile.

"May I help you?"

She looked around the shop, taking in the musty smell that she remembered like it was yesterday. Many years ago, she would frequent the shop every other day. The old lady who owned the shop would always greet the little schoolgirl with cookies, if she could help it. Now, the old lady had kept this pleasant fellow to mind the shop in her place.

She smiled back at the man.

"I would like to try out the baby grand, if you don't mind?"

The man left his newspaper on the counter, as he walked towards the piano, preparing it for her. "Sure, why not?" More smiling.

She fussed around with the seat, and sat down with a familiarity that was returning with alarming speed. Her fingers were already warming up on the keys, but her thoughts were still scattered. Though her hands had begun their joyful reunion with her favoured piano, she knew it wasn't going to be the same.

A flurry of moments flickered in her mind, as though in response to confirm the thought: she singing gaily, slightly off-tune, while he expertly played the accompaniment on his piano, harmonising with her in song; she lying on his lap with her eyes shut, while he sang her favourite song, stroking her hair softly; she writing music to his guitar riffs, humming sweetly as he lightly kissed her neck in between writing the words to the music.

Weeks had gone by since they last sang and played together. She wasn't sure he would ever come back. He had been too angry with her, and nothing she did could make it any more bearable for him. He hated her now, she was sure of it. She had to move on, somehow. She had foolishly believed giving up playing the piano would solve that. But now, she knew better.

Slowly, finding the correct position, she played the opening keys to the song. She shut her eyes; her fingers could navigate the keyboard without her help. Soon it was time for her to start singing, but her throat seemed to shut close on her. That's when she heard it.

A voice, melodious as the music her hands were creating on the piano, flowed to her ears. She knew that voice only too well. It was the voice that had sung to her. It was the voice that had sung for her. It couldn't be.

Her eyes flew open, not believing the apparition that stood before her, singing. Without stopping the music, her voice found itself carrying the lilt that entwined with his, fitting in like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It was perfect, like it always had been.

Not breaking eye contact, he came round to where she sat. They sang the chorus together, as he played the duet they had made up on his end of the piano. Fading to an end, they still watched each other: he, gazing at her fondly, and she, wondering if she had walked into a dream. Her eyes searched his smiling face, afraid to say a word.

She didn't have to; he leaned in and gave her lips his familiar soft kiss, her face in his hands. Breaking apart, he took in her trembling form, her brightening eyes and quivering mouth in one sweeping gaze, and returned to deepen the kiss he'd been meaning to give her.

Letting go of her after what felt like too little time, he answered her questioning looks. "I've waited here for you everyday, hoping you wouldn't give up on me."

A cry escaped her mouth, as she enveloped him in a large embrace, holding him tight and vowing to never let go this time. She was right; it wasn't going to be the same again. It was going to be better.

Writing Therapy

She stared at the blank Notepad page on her computer screen. It demanded the presence of words she knew so well, but she was still without the sentiment.

Her fingers tapped unconsciously against the keys, still not allowing the characters to form. Her eyes looked towards the mug of coffee next to her hands. Like a memory remembered, she found a grip around the mug and took a long, full chug of air. It didn't strike her till after a minute. She took to staring at the coffee stains on the bottom of the mug, uncomprehendingly. What can this mean? It has to mean something, right? She sighed loudly.

Like a prayer being answered, her phone rang in loud jingles. I need to get rid of that sound. She nearly forgot to pick up, mesmerized by how much the noise bothered her and yet how it still remained her ringtone.

"Hello?"

"Oh, good. You're there. I'm coming over."

"What? No!"

"Oh, shut up. I am coming over. We need to talk."

Talk? What can he mean? We don't talk. Do we?

"Now isn't a great time."

"If you're talking about your unwashed hair and the leftovers rotting on your floor, I don't care. Open your door. Now."

She walked to the door and swung it open, narrowing her eyes at the man waiting there. "I don't have leftovers in the house to begin with." He responded by pulling her into a long and warm embrace. Okay. This might have been a good idea after all. Let's not tell him, though.

"I was right about the hair, wasn't I?" He chuckled into the curls atop her head, letting her go with a kiss on her temple.

She glared at him in mock indignation. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Good. Pizza?"

"Always."

"On its way."

She marvelled at how he knew her needs and desires so well. If only I could get myself to...Okay. Let's not go there, shall we? She smiled sweetly at him. Fortunately for her, he didn't notice the near-crazed grin. Either that or he was too used to her thinking to herself. He just didn't want to know anymore. I can live with that.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"A little bit of this and that." His nonchalant response only made her more nervous. She didn't want to deal with another session of having to explain her reasons to him. She had too much going on anyway. And no book nearing completion, either. She sighed inwardly at that thought.

"I'm busy, so get done with it fast."

"I also have beer."

She let out a delighted sound before looking at him suspiciously. He was a little too prepared today. What's going on? He can't possibly think I can be bribed, can he? Can I? She shook her head slightly to focus on the fact he was making himself home on her beanbag.

He settled himself, then looked at her. He smiled a bit, and patted an invite on the beanbag next to him. She went obediently towards the spot, as he opened a couple of bottles of her favourite beer.

Taking a few swigs, she felt at ease. She looked sideways at him. He looked contemplatively at the words she had painted on her wall with his help: It's your responsibility to make your life worth living. She followed his gaze, and then suddenly felt the shame rising in her face. Her words. How do I forget when it's written right there? She lowered her gaze at her bottle for a few seconds before gulping down most of the remaining beer.

He chuckled quietly at that. He reached out and ruffled her hair, letting it remain there while stroking her head softly.

"So. What did you want to talk about?" She dreaded the answer, but she wanted to get it over with.

He took in a deep breath, avoiding her eyes. Oh, boy. This doesn't look good. What now?

"I got the promotion."

She blinked in confusion. Wait, what? That's...good news! Do something! NOW! Right on cue, she squealed. "Ohmigosh! That's brilliant!" She nearly dropped her bottle, which just rolled away thankfully not spilling any remaining beer, and leapt to hug him hard. She almost choked his neck, but she was happy. Happy, so happy for him.

"It's in Bombay."

The hug relaxed. "What?"

"Bombay. I leave next week."

Slowly the hug came undone. There was a look of betrayal forming on her features. I knew there was a but! I knew it! Bad, bad news! Ugh! No, wait. Calm down. Good news. Happy. For him.

She tried to smile. It came out as a grimace. It hurt her face. She returned to the near empty bottle that had rolled away, chugging at the few drops and excess air.

"I should have waited for the pizza."

That elicited a slight choking sound from her. Damn it. I can't eat now. Damn it. Damn him. Damn, damn. She didn't know whether to cry at the fact that she wasn't going to be eating after all, or that he knew that about her.

"It's fine. You're being ridiculous. Pizza is celebration, of course." She wasn't aware of her monotonous voice and her unblinking stare at the wall that held the words that gave her distress away. "It's all good. Good. Good. Good news. All good." Good. I hate good. I hate it, oh so very much, right now.

He sighed again, this time pulling her beanbag closer to him, pulling her in yet another embrace. This one felt like he was pitying her. She struggled at once to get out of it. This isn't cool. Not cool, br..you, I mean. Not cool at all. He didn't let go, instead hugging her tighter still.

"What are you doing, man? You're ruining my hair." He didn't let go. She felt a slight surprise rise and die within her. Of course, he won't let go, he knows I need this. He knows it all. Screw him. Why must he know? Why him? Why? "Please." He still was quietly hugging her.

Then it hit her. Hang on. This doesn't feel right. Something else is up, isn't there? With that, she shook him off, jerking violently. "What aren't you telling me?" A slight anger took the place of the self-pity.

"Wha-at?" His voice faltered a bit. The doorbell rang. He sprung up into action. "Oh, good. Food. Let's go eat." He sounded a bit too cheery for the moment. She also jumped up, attempting to catch up with him. He had swung open the door by the time she reached there, to reveal the tantalizing scents of pepperoni pizza in the hands of the delivery boy. Trying to control her temper, she focused on the empty feeling in her growling stomach. Traitor.

He finished paying the boy. "Thank you, boss!"

"Yeah! Thank you!" She was always polite, if she could help it.

He was taking his time, trying to shut the door while balancing the pizza. Inwardly seething at the sight, she grabbed the pizza from his hands and shut the door with her hip. Expertly placing the pizza on her coffee table, she turned to face him. He was opening his mouth, no doubt to excuse himself for a 'quick' washroom break. Oh, no you don't. "Don't you dare."

"Hey..what? I was only..."

"Sit down."

"But I need to.."

"Sit. Down."

"..uh.."

"Now." She pulled him by the shirt, and forcibly pushed him down on her chair. "Talk."

"I don't.."

"Don't. Just talk."

"But..."

"Seriously. Cut the crap. What aren't you telling me?"

His mouth opened and shut a few times, no sound being made and mild panic in his eyes.

"Talk."

He looked like he was going to hyperventilate. She wasn't having any of it. She knew him well enough, too. Oh, no, you're not escaping this one.

"Talk!" She looked menacing, leaning her face nearer to his, her voice nearly murderous.

"Okay! Back off a bit, please? I swear I'll talk!" She moved backwards, but only a bit. A tiny bit.

"Give me a moment, please?"

"I'm waiting."

He looked like a lamb trying to escape slaughter, his eyes rounding up with a beseeching prayer. She was unmoved.

"Okay." Deep breathing ensued. "Okay." She narrowed her eyes, a large frown marring her pretty face. "When I get there, I'm.." Deeper breath.

"You're what?"

"I'm...I'm moving in with Rhea."

"What?!" She jumped back. "I'm sorry, did you just say you're moving in with..." She couldn't bring herself to say the name without the contempt creeping in. "With Rhea?!"

He mumbled an affirmative, staring hard at his toenails.

It was her turn to adopt the full use of her lungs. Oh. My. What the effing... TRAITOR! Her eyes were blazing now. He looked up to catch that just in time, and knew he must run. He sat there, trying to look sorry instead. Aaaarrrghhh! I want to kill you! I want to..don't give me those puppy eyes, asshole. Those beautiful browns..no. Focus. Don't you effing dare! Ugh! She couldn't move.

"Why?" Her now calm voice scared him more. "Why her?"

"I... I'm getting back with her." He felt the guilt eating at him. He was so sure he could handle this. This was really hard. What was he thinking? He now understood why she chose to not tell him most things like this. Not that she had done this, before. He felt the guilt weighing heavier on him.

"Oh. Okay." She moved backwards till she found herself falling back on to her beanbag. "Okay. Good for you." She got the coffee table near her, opening the pizza box. Swiftly, she pulled apart a slice and began to eat it. He stared at her. She chewed nonchalantly, fussing over the crust and pepperoni. He got up, walked towards her, picked up a slice and settled back in his beanbag seat, munching on his share quietly.

She got up after finishing the one slice, went over to her computer, and put on a comedy TV show. She didn't want to talk. He understood. He brought her another bottle of beer, leaving it open for her on the table, then meekly making his home on the chair next to her. She ignored him, but not the beer bottle. Screw him.

She was distracted for the next hour and half by the show, and by then she and he both had consumed enough pizza and beer to soothe them. He took the bottles and empty pizza box to the outdoor disposal, being extra helpful. She tried to not think of it as him apologizing, but her heart warmed a little bit at the thought. That, and she felt lazy. She felt like she should be mad for a little bit longer, however. So, she practised her fuming in the time he took to come back. She felt stupid for doing this.

I have to do this. I'm not going to let this happen to me again. Never again. It's not fair. But, he's such a darling. Maybe I can forgive him. Why am I pissed at him, again? Oh, yeah. Rhea. Stupid Rhea. Why her? Anybody else would have done, why her? But he really does like her, damn it. Shouldn't I be happy for him? I should be. It's his happiness, isn't it? It's his happiness that matters. Damn it. Stop thinking, fool. Stop it. Ugh. Stupid people. Stop caring. It's not my place to care. I shouldn't care. I don't care. Yeah. Not caring rocks. I think. FEEL OKAY, FOOL!

She let her face fall into her hands.

He walked back in the room to the sight of her shaking with her head in her hands. He felt something come undone in his resolve. He had chosen to not go there. It wouldn't do. It would be catastrophic right now. With that, he stopped listening to his conscience.

He strode towards her, and pulled her up with her shoulders. She gave a little yelp of shock at the sudden forceful grip, looking up with widened eyes to see a very determined look on the exceptionally handsome face before her. Was he always this good-looking? How did I not notice this before?

Before she could make any more sounds with her parted mouth, he had crushed his on it, sucking on her luscious lips for the sake of everything he held dear. He pulled her off the ground, cradling her in his arms as her legs and hands both found their way around him. Pushing away any furniture that came in their way, he dropped her with him following closely on the mattress on the ground, both of them wildly hungry to satiate the need in this new development.

Close to an hour later, they fell exhausted by each other's side. Slowly regaining the use of their voice and speech, they also found the strength to survey the room around them. A tornado couldn't have trashed the place any worse. She groaned and shut her eyes, and let her head fall back on the rug they were now partially on. He let out a nervous giggle and looked at her. Eyes still shut, she giggled in response too.

"Why did we never try this before?"

"I don't know! This is... awesome, right?" She didn't notice his voice nearly breaking.

"Yeah! Now, we can do this forev..." Her eyes flew open and her voice choked, as she suddenly remembered the flaw. He was watching her, his brown eyes covered with a sheet of tears ready to fall. Panic began to fill her rapidly, as she scrambled around for her clothes. He let the tears begin falling, as he calmly picked up his clothes around him and wore them.

She was still throwing around things frantically, trying to avoid being near him at all. Or looking at him. This isn't right. This can't be happening. No. This isn't happening. This just doesn't happen. She threw a cushion over her head and then a shrug. Both landed in front of him, as he stood there watching her break down.

He made his way towards the destructive female. She kept mumbling to herself, shaking her head as if to force herself to wake up from a terrible dream. He drew her violently restless body close to him, engulfing her within his calming hold, as he cried silently into her hair. She was screaming and thrashing now, but he kept pulling her close. Finally, she submitted to his embrace, burying her head in his chest as she melted into what seemed like a pool of despair.

They stood like that for what could have been an eternity. He let go of her gradually, pulled her tear-stained face up to his, and kissed her slowly and long. Reaching for one last touch of intimacy between them, she pressed herself against him. She then pushed him away gently, not wanting to look at him again. He took a step backwards, and then turned to leave.

"Bye, my love."

She didn't respond. He broke within, but left without letting it out.

At the sound of the door shutting, she looked in the space where he had been only a few moments before. Blinking a few times, she decided she was going to pretend nothing had happened. She realized the impossibility of that when she then looked at the mess she had to clean up.

Not wanting to cry again, she sat in front of her laptop. She saw the empty Notepad page open, waiting for whenever she was ready.

And then, she knew it was time. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, knowing exactly what must be typed.

"She stared at the blank Notepad page on her computer screen. It demanded the presence of words she knew so well, but she was still without the sentiment..."

Building Back the Burnt Wings

She was afraid. She was even more afraid to show it. So she didn't.

She walked down the familiar roads with her head held high and her walk firm on the ground. Nobody would have mistaken that for anything but a woman who knew exactly where and why she was going. But she didn't know. She thought she did, but with every step the reasons weathered away just a bit, and then a bit more.

She hadn't felt the surge of rushing blood within her in months. She had forgotten it had been months. She forgot most things now. But then, each step seemed to be walked only to remind her. She felt that surge yesterday. It had set off alarm bells and sleigh bells in her head. That had been confusing. She knew she needed nor wanted either. But there they were, chiming away.

I'm sorry but...

She didn't want to hear another of those. Why did she have to? Hadn't it been enough? You can't both choose and execute, now, can you? She could. She had. Except she hadn't in months. Years. Did it matter anymore?

She couldn't remember time before this. Time when she felt that things were going to be just fine. There was that one time when it almost seemed like her life was changing finally. She had been over the moon. It did change. For the worse. Why, oh, why did she forget to stop with the delight? That's what made it worse this time as well, didn't it?

Her face smiled at the little beggar child on the way, crooning away in a surprisingly sweet voice. She should have been surprised, at least, but her plastic smile was all that she could give to the child for now.

Her head began to feel heavy. She longed for her bed, but she wasn't sleepy. She only wanted to hide away from the world again. She thought of the resolution to stop with that only a week ago. To hell with the resolution. I need my pillow.

She needed to put up her shields again. She needed to shun them all away. They only knew one thing, to disappoint. How could she have been led to believe it was going to be different when it had started so differently this time? People. Was her only sin to allow them to stand so close? Or was she the one who went too close each and every time? Icarus, all over again.

The road began to wind, and her mind began to sicken. This was one too many times all over again. What exactly are you trying to teach me?

She closed her eyes to picture the one she conferred with in moments like these. Why couldn't you just tell me in words already and save the repeat of history?

Because, there probably is nothing else to learn if you learn this now. Trust me.

Trust. The dirty word that left a taste far worse than anything else she could think of right then. Yet, she trusted too much and then she trusted too little. She still was doing it wrong, and she was tired of trying it again. Trust you? You wish.

Yet, when she opened her eyes again, she knew she would do just that. Not out of choice, but out of desperation.

Maybe, just maybe, this time she was going to be able to fly. She had nothing else to lose, really.

Relief

She turned around and saw a familiar figure walking towards her. She was still mid-song in her solo karaoke session, and it took her a while to register the person. Her heart stopped for a beat and started again at double time. A slow, wide smile spread on her now silent mouth.

His smile and walk seemed to brighten the dusky tones of the sky. His eyes were twinkling. It felt like not even a day had passed. But then again, it felt like far too much time had flown past whilst she waited for this moment. She went closer to meet him, and stopped just short of bumping into and hugging him. He was looking down at her face. She looked at his, and then slowly looked all the way down. She inhaled his scent. She had forgotten how intoxicating it was, being near him. She looked back at his face. That smile, that easy smile. How could she have forgotten that?

They went hand in hand, till they found a space to be themselves. She marvelled at his beauty, his scent now stronger than ever. She felt at home in his arms and in the kisses he rained upon her. She held him till she had drunk in all the memory of him.

Sitting side by side, she was startled by how much she had missed his touch. He obliged by allowing her a little more time.

Exchanging goodbyes seemed unreal this time. The moment had ended much too soon. Are we really doing this again?

Watching him go away this time made her ache in places she didn't know existed within her. Please don't, please don't go away? Please, please just turn around and stay? Stay with me!

Her silent prayers went unheard, as he waved a final farewell.

Please, God, please let's put this dream on loop?

The skies rumbled in response, and she felt a few raindrops tap her head.

She smiled. It wasn't the end of this story. This time she was sure of it.

One of None

She looked at the time on her phone yet again. Not even a minute had passed. But it was hours since she had sent out a post.

Dawn was approaching fast, it seemed to her, and no one had given any reaction to what she supposed would be a very reactable news.

Yet no one was saying a word.

Where is everyone?

Never had she felt more alone, in that moment. The blissfully asleep figure sharing her bed just snored in agreement to her thoughts.

She thought about what she'd read that day, and what made her write the post in the first place. Her straying mind allowed her a few minutes of calm that was going to be disturbed all over again once she reached the end of her thought process. It was inevitable. It boiled down to the same question. Over and over again. There really was no answer.

Where is everyone?

How did this not work when it was she who did the talking? Had she not put in her two pence of opinionated monologues for everyone else's?

It then struck her. She felt like a burden was both placed on and lifted off her shoulders. She should have felt liberated, but the realization made her feel trapped.

Then came the crashing sadness that settled in like it was home. There was only one comfort and remedy to this. But the solutions seemed so far out of her reach. So far that it probably was more anger and stubbornness rather than desperation that held on to what she called self-respect. It only made her feel madder. And worse.

If only someone knew intuitively what must be done. But, it seemed to her loneliness was her only friend. This time, she really wanted to just know.

Where is everyone?