Thoughts/ Excerpts

T W E N T Y O N E

He slammed the door shut, standing in front of it to block my way out. "Keep quiet and I'll help you get back there." he offered. The document was still in the front pocket of his jacket, edges sticking out. 

She sighed. At the moment, he could have thought she'd grab the opportunity, get involved with him to get back, it had been her ambition after all. She had told them herself, not too long ago.

She side-stepped him, attempting to grab the door knob and exit the room. The only sentiment she felt was apathy. He noticed,grabbing her forearm to stop her. She looked down at his hand. She knew he'd see her observing it, but he didn't let go. She tilted her head. "Is there anything else you wanted to get across?" her breathy voice sounded. Breaking the eye contact, she focused on the doorknob.

A moment of silence later, she freed her arm, noticing his frame still in her way.  She sighed again. "You know, sometimes, I think about it. The empty hallways when we were just about to depart, the white walls, the people." She turned around, leaning onto the wall right next to him. Both were facing front, seemingly lost in thoughts, but present at the same time. "Sometimes I want to go back, re-live everything and stay right there." she spoke. "I can remember the abhorrence I felt towards them, and the elated moments too, of course. Although only desolate moments seem to stand out to me in my memories, even tinting the ones I deemed happy back then grey and blue." She paused to take a quick glance at him. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "But I came to realize that it all doesn't matter. In fact, it never did. Hence, I have no interest returning. And it doesn't concern me anymore, to be honest." She folded her arms in an attempt to bring some kind of warmth to a body she felt was already dead. "One would never readily return to a place only ostensibly called home."