Mabel used to be beautiful.
It had not been her full auburn locks or tall, willowy stature that made Oliver gravitate to her, but the infectious smile that never left her face and the way her eyes danced. Wherever Mabel went, she brought life, a vibrant atmosphere that once sent shivers up Oliver’s spine and made his eyes soften, though he would never admit it.
She had gotten thinner since he first met her a little over a year ago; as her boyfriend, Oliver was well aware that her sweater nearly swallowed her whole, engulfing her body in a tangled mess of burgundy wool. Mabel walked like a sick dog dying, barely shuffling forward as her limp arms hung pathetically at her sides.
“Hey,” she whispered, because that was what Mabel was now. A whisper of a person. So thin, she could fall over. Oliver frowned when he saw the dullness in her eyes, dull as they had been for months. It had become harder and harder to talk; their once lively conversations had reduced to a simple nod of acknowledgement as they sometimes passed each other on campus. In fact, he hadn’t even contacted her the past week, and while exams were swamping every collegian’s schedules, Mabel and Oliver had always found time for each other.
They were supposed to be a couple.
But Mabel was always making excuses, he realized. A dentist appointment. A group project. A family dinner. But Oliver had met Mabel’s family, and they weren’t one for family dinners.
Oliver hated this, this dancing around each other. It was tiring, but everytime he tried to talk about it, Mabel would close her eyes, feigning sleep.
But Mabel never used to sleep, and he couldn’t take it any longer.
All he could think about was breaking up. It plagued his thoughts and filtered through his memories.
He had pondered and mulled over the situation, but breaking up still seemed to be the only option. Mabel wasn’t the same anymore, he told himself. And while he got a sharp, shooting pain at the mere idea of it, they never smiled at each other anymore, and Mabel always used to smile.
Oliver grimaced, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been wanting to talk.” He hated the shakiness in his voice. Breaking up was never easy, he knew that much. He hadn’t seen her lately; but he insisted that they meet at the Sunshine Bistro and Cafe for lunch; he had something to tell her.
Mabel had agreed, reluctantly.
She rolled her head to one side, staring through him with those blank eyes again. “Me too.”
He looked up in surprise, his coffee cup clattering against the saucer. “You do?”
“Yeah.” She played with the frayed ends of her scarf, wrapping them around each other so that they braided and unbraided. Mabel paused, mid-twist.
