08-08-2009, 02:18 PM
[html]
time will heal even a heart of steel
Encased in her own thoughts, in her own pity and images of puppies that should have been alive, she did not smell his approach before he was too close to be avoided. But, she did not want him to see her like this, because it meant confronting the problem. He was the problem, and she could not bring herself to tell him how he hurt her, every day, with his lack of presence. She could smell he had been there at night when she rose in the mornings, but by then he was gone, and she wouldn't follow him. She wanted to, but something made her stay away, as if she didn't want to invade his personal life. Perhaps it was because she - too - knew that addressing the real problem would be far more painful than she could handle. He didn't know it, but he had taken her arrogance and self-esteem and turned it on its head. She was little, and felt little.
And here he was, smelling of himself - dusty old books - right by her. She lay at an angle, and would have to turn to look at him, and she avoided that too. Staring ahead of her like she had done when he came here, she closed them for a moment, clearing her mind. Her voice did not shake and wasn't thick when she spoke, but there was something about it which was out of the ordinary.
"Yes." Her eyes opened to look ahead of her again, and she didn't intend to say anything else. Perhaps to prevent herself from crying, or perhaps because she didn't feel like it. She didn't really know.
[/html]
Encased in her own thoughts, in her own pity and images of puppies that should have been alive, she did not smell his approach before he was too close to be avoided. But, she did not want him to see her like this, because it meant confronting the problem. He was the problem, and she could not bring herself to tell him how he hurt her, every day, with his lack of presence. She could smell he had been there at night when she rose in the mornings, but by then he was gone, and she wouldn't follow him. She wanted to, but something made her stay away, as if she didn't want to invade his personal life. Perhaps it was because she - too - knew that addressing the real problem would be far more painful than she could handle. He didn't know it, but he had taken her arrogance and self-esteem and turned it on its head. She was little, and felt little.
And here he was, smelling of himself - dusty old books - right by her. She lay at an angle, and would have to turn to look at him, and she avoided that too. Staring ahead of her like she had done when he came here, she closed them for a moment, clearing her mind. Her voice did not shake and wasn't thick when she spoke, but there was something about it which was out of the ordinary.
"Yes." Her eyes opened to look ahead of her again, and she didn't intend to say anything else. Perhaps to prevent herself from crying, or perhaps because she didn't feel like it. She didn't really know.