And I just went to watch Divergent and I listened to 'I Need You' by M83 while writing this and eating a cheese sandwich.
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He knows I'm leaving. I am leaving.
My ship is waiting. His dark green eyes accuse me, why was I ever leaving? I lean my forehead against his, I will come back if I can. And he embraces me, the silent tears stain my blouse. He knows he will never let me go. But he also knows he can't be the one who decides that.
He once tried to present himself as someone who would go with me. That was impossible. It could never happen. They wouldn't let it happen. He would naturally be a hazard, and I spent days trying to console him.
So we spent our last days hoping. His was that I would not have to leave him. Mine was that I would come back to him, or if I didn't, that he would heal from my absence. Alas, both ours are quite impossible. And we drowned our sorrows in the lake with me reading and him listening.
The sun goes down behind the pine forest, and we don't let each other go, our knees touching the stones on the ground. Now his sobs are audible. I comfort him with my lullaby, the last he would want to be able to hear. Oh, what will happen to him when I'm into the back of beyond? I kiss him on the forehead as speakers at the port ask for my presence. Then I pull myself away from him, now we are both crying. My feet lift myself off the ground, and I run my fastest away from him. He always runs faster than me. But as I glance back I see he's given me leverage so he won't be able to hold me back. And he stops two yards away from my ship and waves at me, his face heart-wrenchingly despairing.
I scream as many words as I can to him, expecting no response from his non-existent voice. As the ship begins to launch, suddenly I hear the lullaby I had sung reciprocated to me as clear as our lake. I whip my head out of my window and the song is coming from his mouth. Tears fall, and it haunts me as I leave.
YOU ARE READING
Ensemble of Shards
Short StoryThis 31-day writing challenge is about people - how broken we all are. But being broken means we can let the light shine through. Read short stories, quick scenes, and poems about curious children, socially awkward teenagers, closet musicians, long...