Shadows of an Unspoken Love

The sun was dipping low, casting an amber glow over the streets as my friend and I made our way to a hangout spot. The city’s hum buzzed around us, but a haunting stillness clung to a corner of the road. A rancid smell hit me first, stopping me in my tracks. I glanced toward the drainage passage nearby. My heart clenched. 

Scattered along the passage were bodies—lifeless, pale, some tinged in an unnatural white. Vultures circled overhead, their sharp cries echoing through the air before they swooped down to feast. A chill coursed through me, and I grabbed my friend’s arm, urging him to the police station. 

Inside the station, I tried to recount the horror we’d just witnessed. My words stumbled over each other as I painted a picture of the grim scene—the corpses, the vultures, the death hanging thick in the air. The officers listened, their faces grim, but my mind couldn’t escape the images. 

Then, as if transported by an unseen force, I found myself in a new setting—a hall filled with long benches. It looked like an exam center or maybe a work hub. I sat in the far corner of a bench, my friend beside me, and his work colleague seated next to him. They chatted quietly, laughter lacing their words, but I was lost in thought, the earlier scene still clinging to me. 

Suddenly, a shift in their energy pulled me back. His colleague leaned in and kissed him—soft at first, then with a growing passion. My heart clenched, a dull ache spreading through my chest. 

As they pulled away, my friend glanced toward me and slid a note onto the bench. At first, it was partially hidden beneath a swatch of dress material. I frowned, not understanding. “It’s not visible,” I said softly. He pulled the material away, revealing the words scrawled on the paper. 

“I’m ready to commit to her. She’s intelligent and beautiful, and we work well together. I know her.”

The words struck me harder than I expected. I read them again, as if the meaning would somehow change. But it didn’t. My chest tightened. I tried to look unaffected, but inside, a storm raged. 

I had always harbored a quiet admiration for him—a growing affection I hadn’t dared to voice. He was kind, thoughtful, and effortlessly charming. And now, I realized it was all one-sided. 

Their laughter and whispers continued. I turned my gaze away, willing my thoughts to quiet. But when he reached for my hand—casually, almost like an old habit—I pulled it away. 

“You have her now,” I said softly, forcing a weak smile. His expression faltered for a moment, but he said nothing. 

After that, I distanced myself. I spoke less to him, retreating into my own space, shielding my heart as best as I could. 

The dream faded into obscurity, but the ache of unspoken love lingered—an unfulfilled story written in the spaces between us.