Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Leaving.

Her dark hair framed her face with fierce intensity and her cheeks were stained pink with blush. She watched him intently, her brown eyes were attentive and she nodded gently when he asked her if she had been listening to him.  He wasn't sure if he had said everything he wanted to or if it was better that he stop speaking for her sake.  

She seemed determined not to cry but he wasn't sure how long that resolve would last.


Part of him was doing what he had to. Part of him wanted to end her nightmare. She sat there. Not protesting or fighting. Just listening. Waiting for the end. Because that's what was coming. He wondered about her reaction. Maybe she didn't feel quite as much as he had expected. In the last few seconds, he watched the soft colour in her cheeks darken, even her eyes seemed to darken, and as she leaned forward and blocked her face from view, he knew he had to leave. He didn't want to see or hear the next part. 

The thing about leaving someone behind isn't so much that you have to leave them, it's more that you have to watch the reaction. You have to imagine what's going to happen once you've left. That's the worst part*

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