Hold me. Those were the words he uttered. The last words I heard him say. Hold me.
Paralysed. I didn't know what to do. His words may have been hold me, but his face told another tale. His face was telling me to stay away. To stay away forever.
I saw him writhe and cry. I wanted to hold him. I couldn't move. I was paralysed and there was nothing I could do.
He was crying for me. He was telling me a story. The story of him and the story of us. He was crying for me.
I didn't understand what he was telling me. I didn't understand his story, the meaning behind it. Most of all I didn't understand why he was telling it.
YOU ARE READING
Thought
Short StoryA sample of short stories/poems. They bear the meaning you give them
