"There are many with a house but no home,
a smile but not joy.
We must love, be kind, sharing hope,
to which giving up is not a choice."
Him
I didn't mean to. Leave her, that is. We had dreams, to build a house and make a home, to always be together no matter where we roamed.
And then it happened.
I left. I didn't mean to. But I had to.
Her
I didn't feel pain. From him leaving, that is. We have a daughter in our house, now a broken home. Just the two of us as we roam.
Her eyes light up at the sight of him in pictures, at mention of his name. But we both know his passing, him leaving, will never bring back the same.
He left. I didn't feel the pain. I ached for his love again.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
Short StoryMy friend and I decided to do a little 'project' to ask our friends for random objects that we'd write a story about. We would write them as fast as we could during free periods at school. It was 2018 when we started this, but I carried on this pra...
