Dust In The Light

And Send My World Crashing Down

I strongly maintain that my rejection did not hurt anybody in any way.

Eve's fine.

Thing's are just awkward.

I'm going to continue pretending that I don't notice her current trend of long-sleeved blouses.

I keep my head down as I watch her run her fingers over the thin, sharp edge of paper repeatedly.

It's giving her multiple paper cuts on her fingers, but I would imagine that they would be the least of her concerns.

Tiny beads of blood form and pool together, staining the paper as she runs her fingers over it again.

For some reason, there's a stab of pain in my heart, as if seeing her hurt had a butterfly effect on me.

I attribute it to me watching my hard work on my most difficult patient go to waste.

I know that's not true.

My hand clenches into a fist as I resist reaching over and taking her hand to stop her.

Finally, after an eternity of silence, I clear my throat pointedly. Eve freezes, before going back to butchering her fingers.

I lean forward, attempting to make my presence felt.

She curls back further into her chair.

For some reason, it wounds me.

That implicit trust she once had in me, just gone.

She used to trust me to protect her from all dangers.

I was her guardian, someone who would comfort her, provide an all-knowing answer to her questions, explain the intricacies of a dilemma she faced.

When she was a boarding school, I was on her speed dial. We talked everyday.

Sometimes about my failed ventures about gardening, the most recent release of good books.

Sometimes it was about her life in school, the petty fights the girls would pick, the trivial things that would make both of us laugh.

When she came back, I would look forward to seeing her every week. Look forward the seeing her curled up on the armchair, wrapped in a blanket, talking to me.

She trusted me to keep her safe. And now I've gone and done it. I've broken her, and no amount of care would ever be able to put her back again.

It sparks a flame of disappointment in me, and I tamp it down.

Yet somehow, the question remains unanswered.

I love her. Of course I do. She's my friend. But I have no idea if I even want to find out if I loved her just that little bit more.

I should have an answer to that, seeing as I've got a wedding coming up in a few months time.

The problem here, is that I do not.