Unable to face her today after yesterday's kiss, I had briefly thought about not coming at all. It had been, however, nothing more than fleeting idea, passing through my head without even really being seriously entertained. I knew no matter how she acted around me, to me, it couldn't possibly be worse than not seeing her at all and wondering, wondering what today would have been like had I seen her. So here I sat, in my chair, at my desk, in the classroom, surrounded by oblivious students who had no idea how dramatically the world had shifted since the previous day. Here I sat, and here I would stay.
She ignored me completely; it was as if I didn't exist, and never had. She passed me without brushing my shoulder, she looked over her class without seeing me, she never looked up from her work to glance at me. The persistent blossom of hope I'd previously had withered, retreating back into its guarded shell, shriveled and dried, dead. Fallen. As I watched her go about her day without me in it, I laced protective layers of cold, hard steel around my heart, fencing me in. Keeping her out. Keeping out the feeling she had left me with yesterday. And so today I left in the flood of everyone else, and she was left alone in the room as I had been yesterday, left floundering in the wake of everyone's absence.
YOU ARE READING
Her
Short StorySome say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed. Some say love, it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed. Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless, aching need. I say love, it is a flower, and you, its only seed. It's the heart afrai...
