It is April the third, and will be 6:05pm in exactly, 4… 3… 2… 1… Now. The clouds are rolling above our heads, fat and gray with their bellies filled with rain. There’s a breeze blowing too, dancing in our hair and washing over our skin.
“Funny, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
She tilts her head upwards to watch the clouds with worn eyes. Her eyes are so much older now, compared to how they used to be; bouncy and joyful and full of life. There are times when I think I’ll never see those eyes again.
“The irony.” She says simply, stopping and wrapping her arms around herself. I have to stop too, because I can’t leave her behind. I shoot her a questioning look, and her old eyes turn to gaze at me. She lowers her head, and gives a tired, sad smile.
“How I know he doesn't mean to break my heart, and that I can still love him with all the tiny pieces that are left.”
I sigh, because I can’t say anything to that. Instead, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, and give her a light squeeze.
We walk to her car like that.
[ Inspired after a conversation I had with one of my dearest friends. ]
“Funny, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
She tilts her head upwards to watch the clouds with worn eyes. Her eyes are so much older now, compared to how they used to be; bouncy and joyful and full of life. There are times when I think I’ll never see those eyes again.
“The irony.” She says simply, stopping and wrapping her arms around herself. I have to stop too, because I can’t leave her behind. I shoot her a questioning look, and her old eyes turn to gaze at me. She lowers her head, and gives a tired, sad smile.
“How I know he doesn't mean to break my heart, and that I can still love him with all the tiny pieces that are left.”
I sigh, because I can’t say anything to that. Instead, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, and give her a light squeeze.
We walk to her car like that.
[ Inspired after a conversation I had with one of my dearest friends. ]
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