Parsimonious
- Reads 1,158
- Votes 2
- Parts 61
MatureOngoing9m
Last published Tue, Jun 27, 2017
Love is a tortuous thing, its own being.
It fills the air with its aura, surrounding you all.
What is it?
Love is the sound of your still beating hear being ripped from your chest,
Love is the taste of your tears pouring from your eyes and trickling onto your lips,
Love is the smell of burnt out cigarettes and spilt vodka seeping though the grains of the carpet,
Love is the touch of a gentle hand caressing your cheek and tracing over every inch of your body that left long ago,
Love is the sight of crystal hearts shattering, bleeding from the inside out.
And all I can do is hope she doesn't recapture me.
Step gracefully, as to not cut myself on my broken glass,
All I can do is run away, and hope she never finds me again.
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I deeply inhale and after a few seconds, exhale. Sooner or later, I'll have to return. Stalling won't help. The call gave me new strengths and lifted me back up on my feet. I can't show him the consequences he made. I have to stay strong. With newfound determination, I walk back to his office. The door is still open, so I step in and close them behind me. I finally see him behind a desk, with his head enveloped in his hands. At the sound of the door, he lifts his gaze up but lowers it back down again. I almost feel sorry for him, but the alarms in my head ring, reminding me not to get tricked. He is the one, who deceived me first. I lift my head up high and loudly start to introduce myself, formally addressing him. "Hello, I am Mia Rose, your new assistant," and extend my hand. He looks at me surprised and his smile turns into a gentle one. I think I see a speck of sadness in his eyes, but my attention is drawn to his hand. "Hello, I'm Mark Adams, a professional photographer. Nice to meet you," and shakes my hand. I notice he addresses me formally as well. His handshake is strong but still gentle. I feel like he doesn't want to let go, but soon does and sits back in his chair.
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