Unholy Water
Shopping at Sarvana stores was a good idea, but we ended up on the terrace instead, just the fading twilight, him and I.
I cleared my throat behind him, but I was not sure if he'd hear it over the maniac drumming of my heart.
He turned casually, before snapping back, quickly, facing away from me: his hand pressing on his mouth.
"Don't worry." I managed a high pitched squeak.
He turned in my direction again, both his hands covering his eyes in an attempt not to hide the world from his view, but in an attempt to hide himself from the view of the world.
I had a book in my hand. My book. The very first copy of my very first book. But the rose, wasn't blue. It was red. Cynically, satirically, ironically, the color of both love and of loss. Red.
He stepped infinitesimally closer, his eyes dropping to my knees, when I noticed it.
Those were tears which he wiped.
Unholy water from sinful eyes.
. . .
YOU ARE READING
Where Parallels Meet
Romance...because a broken heart, is a sharp object. Almost your average romance...but not quite. What happens when the universe is flawed? How do you undo it all? A tale of love: a sin worth conceiving; and of redemption which is just an idealistic theory...
