CANDIED WIRES.

three - for real this time

His beloved would vanish within an hour, so quickly, the man tidied himself up; he shaved off that itchy, patchy beard, threw the mess of clothes he had worn previously and went in trade for a simple buttoned up blue shirt with black trousers. And to top it all off, he gave himself a quick, hot shower.

For such a clever scheme, you need to look the part, for presentation is key.

Taking a brief glance upon his appearance from the mirror nailed to the wall, he nodded to himself in approval. This would do.

About two minutes later, you could hear the floor board from the steps creak with each, well, step. The souls of the man's black shoes merely made an imprint; the stair case wasn't, per say—clean.

Once down to the floor of which she stood, the male simply bathed in her presence. Such beauty didn't deserve a pitiful layer of dried tears and messy mascara among those rose tinted, porcelain cheeks. He wanted that oh so perfect smile. He wanted her oh so lovely voice to sooth his anxiety.

No.

He must focus on the task at hand.

Blinking once or twice, the man sauntered forth. His steps were quiet, steady, and careful. He didn't want to startle her, let alone frighten.

Though, she proceeded packing, hastily moving about to collect her belongings. Her lips moved, but none was spoken aloud. Each tear that fell from the woman's ocular left the man sinking within an endless pit of sorrow and dread. He hated seeing her cry.

But now was not the time, right?

Right.

Uttering a slight cough, he spoke, "How about a trade?"

And as odd as it may seem, the woman's hazel orbs obtained immediate interest.