Candour

Prologue

Farewells

A dull ache began to appear in Ivory's chest, a lump making its way up her throat and salty liquid finding a home in her deep, brown eyes. With shaking palms and trembling lips they stood face to face, refusing to speak nor come to terms with the reality laid out before them. So, this is it. Ivory thought, but did not dare to say aloud. The saying was much too cliché for their liking. The pair had seen enough movies to tie the phrase with goodbyes. A ritual neither of them were will willing to take part in.

Instead, they gathered in a tight hug of hot tears, humiliated laughter and unwanted farewells. They parted with a casual "See ya" because it didn't necessarily mean that they would never see each other again.

Then, Harry left, leaving a cold and abandoned Ivory behind.

Everything after that day was silent and colourless. Her life a mirage of only drooping greys, sadistic whites and lifeless blacks. Someone could be screaming in her ear, but she wouldn't hear it. Remixes and endless replays of "Harry won't be gone for long" or "He'll be back soon" were heard from every endless radio we call mouths.

Keeping herself busy, she packed in endless hours of study and cleaning. Mopping the floors twice and the windows a third. She wondered what Harry was doing, was he settling in well? Had he run out of English Morning Breakfast tea? Was his bed plush and soft to accustom for his horrible back? So many thoughts and worries, strung in tangled webs in every corner of her mind. She spent every second, every minute and every hour, waiting for Harry to come home to her.

But he didn't, and Ivory never saw Harry again.