My back against the door, my body slowly sliding down. No strength left to stand, no reason to try.
My eyes sting as I finally reach the ground. I simply let the tears escape, crying softly as images of him flood my mind, making me dizzy with longing. I lay my head on my knees as I listen to his velvety voice saying those heart wrenching words. Over and over it repeats, as if stuck… or maybe simply mocking me for my foolishness.
The tears trace silver paths down my cheeks, washing away the stain of his hands. I can almost forget his touch. Can almost forget the way he drew a thousand pictures on my skin - soft, feather-like tracings painted slowly as he stared at me. How many hours had we spent like that? Almost in stasis as we memorized every plane, every wrinkle, of our soul mate’s face.
Oh, how I had trusted him, the man who would break my heart.
Another memory plays out on the back of my eyelid, forcing me to watch as one date melts to the next, flashbacks of our years together. A kiss in the park, ice-cream on a sunny day, a romantic movie, holding hands…
But it all returns to the same scene, nearly making me scream in agony. “Foolish girl,” the memories seem to say, daring me to fall to pieces. Torturing me with the words he said.
It replays once more, and, though it breaks me, I’m captivated by his lips as they form the words: “It hurts me to say this but I believe it would be best for us to go our separate ways.” Watching as he brushes one last kiss over my forehead, turns, and walks out of my life.
And what had I said?
I just stood there, shocked, and let him break my heart.
My hand clenches in my hair, pulling some out by the strands. A sob threatens to overtake me, then racks through my body, cracking my last bit of composure. I lose myself as wave upon wave of despair washes over me, making it increasingly hard to breathe.
His name is a soft cry from my lips as my whole body shakes uncontrollably, yearning for the warmth of his arms, reaching out for the comfort of his chest, the familiarity of his heartbeat.
Some time later, my breathing calms and I uncoil myself from the uncomfortable position I’d been in. My legs numb, I shuffle slowly to the bathroom on the far side of the hall. Wincing as I switch the light on, I look at my blotchy red face in the mirror. I comb my fingers through my hair and slowly start to undress, trying to stretch my stiff muscles in the process.
Just as I’m about to climb into the shower, the doorbell rings, making me jump about a foot into the air. I quickly splash some water on my face and drag my filthy clothes back on, groaning in displeasure at being disturbed.
My pace is hurried as I move across the hall, impatient to get clean.
Time seems frozen as the door swings open, giving me a glimpse of the face I’d just spent hours crying over.
“Foolish girl, indeed,” I whisper, my voice weak. He doesn’t hear me, opening his mouth to say something. No words need to be uttered for him to speak; his meaning is written clearly in his eyes.
My arms wrap around his neck, stilling the words in his throat. All past grievances forgotten in the space of a single blink.
I forget everything, simply basking in his warmth.
Kissing him, as if for the first time.
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