rockepidemic

I found an old story saved on my hard drive. It's kind of weird to read now, but some people seemed to like it.

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The patterns of the table seem to lead in endless paths, as my eyes wander. She had asked me to meet her here. What could I do but say yes? I'm still not even sure what to think about the incident. And...regardless if she knows it or not, she still has me around her little finger. My eyes close briefly as my thoughts wander back to the events of the past few days, and I cringe, wishing it were all a dream. Quietly, I whisper my thoughts to myself, when I recognize a voice, addressing me. Her.

She looks happy to see me, but there's something about her expression that says otherwise. As if this entire thing was out of a sense of obligation more than caring. Caring. I miss that feeling. The last few days have felt so cold. Pausing, I realize she's asking me how I am. Without a pause I lie through my teeth and say I'm fine. Of course I am. It's not like I'm surprised. Far from it. But that doesn't make it any easier. It's never easy, is it?

We start to make idle conversation but it feels so...fake. There's no sentiment behind it, no emotion. Not like before. But I force a smile and plow through it. I need to be strong. If not for me, then for her. Before long I find myself quietly observing her expression. There's something cold about it. Unfeeling. I've seen it before, but I never imagined it'd be me on the receiving end one day. Part of me wishes I couldn't recognize little signs like this, but there's no getting around that now.

I know I shouldn't but I find my eyes wandering in her direction. I watch her unconsciously brush a strand of hair from her face while she talks, as a flood of old emotions comes back. I know I can't do a damn thing about it, and I curse myself for not being stronger.

She looks at her watch and says she needs to go. I nod slowly, and agree, not even knowing what time it is. We both stand and start to walk outside. It's gotten dark since I arrived, and the wind cuts sharply against my skin. I can't even feel it. The walk out to her car takes an eternity, but is briefly interrupted as she turns to me, with a genuine look of concern on her face. I watch as she asks if I'm going to be all right, but I never actually hear her say it. It doesn't matter anyway, I already know what she's asking. Part of me wants to say otherwise, but it's never been about me, particularly since that day. I force out my answer, hoping it's what she wants to hear. There is an awkward moment of silence as we both pause, then exchange goodbyes as I turn and walk away.