She cradled the blue mug in both hands, laying her knuckles on the table. Leaning her head into the rising steam. Pursing her lips, she blew softly over the clouded surface and let her eyelids drop. Her shoulders rose slightly as she breathed in, and she hummed softly. He lifted the tiny porcelain pitcher and poured a brief rotating arch of cream into the black depths of his own cup. She opened her eyes, taking her former straight-backed position, her fingers still knitted around the mug. They looked at each other across the table without speaking. Her eyes darken fleetingly. She looked away, her cheeks flushing. The beating in his chest suddenly became much more definable. He struggled to hold it down. Clean break. Clean break. Clean break. His mental chant cuts off violently as she unlinks her long fingers.
The vinyl's ever-present sting dug into her thigh. She barely noticed. She scooted out of the leather booth, her body tensing for a response. A split second was all she needed. Her thoughts blur together. She stood, her chestnut hair bobbing at the movement. She steadily walked forward, her stinging eyes her only remorse. He doesn't try to stop her. Her hand grips the door jam. She glances his way. She flinches almost immediately. She closes her eyes, and words fail her. She takes a shallow breath. "I thought you were different." His eyes stay trained on his coffee cup. She chokes back a rough sob. The door clicking shut is the only thing he welcomes.
Had anyone been nearby, they would have seen the fine tremor pass through his body just before he dropped his moonlit head. He closed his eyes and raised his hands to cup his face. His elbows lower to the familiar table. His shoulders began to shake but he made no sound. Of course, no one was there. Trent was alone. The unfamiliar darkness cascades around his frame, clinging to his legs, crawling up his arms. Only once before in his life had he felt so utterly lost. This time, she wasn't here to save him.
The vinyl's ever-present sting dug into her thigh. She barely noticed. She scooted out of the leather booth, her body tensing for a response. A split second was all she needed. Her thoughts blur together. She stood, her chestnut hair bobbing at the movement. She steadily walked forward, her stinging eyes her only remorse. He doesn't try to stop her. Her hand grips the door jam. She glances his way. She flinches almost immediately. She closes her eyes, and words fail her. She takes a shallow breath. "I thought you were different." His eyes stay trained on his coffee cup. She chokes back a rough sob. The door clicking shut is the only thing he welcomes.
Had anyone been nearby, they would have seen the fine tremor pass through his body just before he dropped his moonlit head. He closed his eyes and raised his hands to cup his face. His elbows lower to the familiar table. His shoulders began to shake but he made no sound. Of course, no one was there. Trent was alone. The unfamiliar darkness cascades around his frame, clinging to his legs, crawling up his arms. Only once before in his life had he felt so utterly lost. This time, she wasn't here to save him.