"Why won't you talk to me?!"
She perched on her newly acquired ottoman, its soft crushed velvet offering a lush sensation under her fingertips. As she gently glided her hands across the surface, her gaze remained fixed on her bare thighs, deliberately avoiding the man who stood before her, his voice rising in frustration as he looped back to the same question. Yet, in the whirlwind of her thoughts, another question clawed for attention,
"How did you get in here, again?"
He let out a frustrated click of his tongue, his voice echoing slightly louder this time, yet somehow retaining an unsettling calmness. It was an odd mix that piqued her curiosity, though she chose not to voice it.
Not so much frustrated as she was exhausted from the incessant poking and prodding of their conversation, she finally declared, "I won't talk to you because you do this, and countless other heinous things to me, all while insisting you never ask me anything. And to top it off, you just met me!"
With a surge of courage, she lifted her gaze and met his.
He crouched before her, his hands sweeping across her thighs, engulfing them entirely and rendering them invisible beneath his warm palms. She marveled at the sensation; it was as if he were crafting an intimate cocoon around her, a paradox of comfort and confinement.
"Look, I... I honestly don't know," he stammered, his voice shaking like leaves caught in a sudden gust.
Tears welled up in his eyes, cascading down his cheeks, a silent plea for solace as his heart screamed in a language he couldn't articulate. All he could manage was to follow its erratic cadence—now it had ensnared him, leaving him bewildered and aching.
