Waldeinsamkeit
[vahyd-ahyn-zahm-kahyt]
The feeling one has while being alone in the woods, usually a sublime or spiritual one.
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Arthur belonged to the woods. He belonged to the gnarled, greedy roots and the rich soil of the forest. He belonged to the birds and the deer and the squirrels. He belonged everywhere but New York. No, he had never belonged in New York, he realized. And so he decided to leave.
"Arthur, you can't be serious." A tearful Lillabet glared at him from his doorway, glassy eyed and breathless. "Talk to me, Arthur."
"About what?"
Silence fell between them, ruptured only by Lillabet's ragged breathing. She shifted in her nightgown, wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders.
"You don't just leave when it gets complicated."
"It's not complicated, Lillabet."
He was right. It wasn't complicated. They didn't agree, and they never would. To linger would be to slowly crush the warmth out of their memories. It would be sacrilegious. Lillabet knew it, too.
"Stay." Her voice cracked. Arthur hesitated. He wanted to stay. He wanted to take her hand and feel her warmth. He wanted to go to her ridiculous parties and walk through the woods with her once more. He wanted...well, he just wanted. But he knew better than to want. His eyes drifted down to the necklace with the cross that hung on Lillabet's neck. She felt the shift in his gaze, and gripped it in her shaking fingers. Her face hardened. When their eyes met, there were no words left to be said.
As the seconds dragged on, Arthur watched as the months flickered by in her hypnotic eyes. Two acquaintances, familiar only in passing. Two tentative friends, meeting in secret and exploring the wild world. Two almost lovers, toeing the line between scandal and more important truths. Two twin flames, burning bright and snuffing out. And now two strangers, unsure of how to proceed as if the world hadn't imploded. As if they hadn't touched something deep and frightening and real.
"Goodbye, Arthur."
Arthur didn't say anything. He simply drank in the sight of her. And then he turned away, placing a final piece of clothing in his suitcase. He didn't hear her leave, but he knew when she'd left. Knew it by the way the world tilted and remolded until it was a stranger to him, too.
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Cover Art Credit: pinterest.com/reneefurrer1604
YOU ARE READING
Emille
Romance2020: Emille Semner is neither a hero nor a villain. She's a decent student, a good daughter, and a lover of books. That's why, when she spies a spellbook hidden in the depths of the university library and steals it, she is shocked to her core. As s...
