my boot

She started out walking, wrapping her jacket around her and tucking her hands in the pockets. Head burrowed against the wind and rainy mist she considered the extent of her silliness. She had hoped to run into him in the bar… it was her excuse for going to the bathroom, it was the reason she was walking home instead of being dropped off.
Reaching the corner of the street, she notices them coming her way… a smile reflexly jumps to her lips ## but she sheds it almost as instantly as it came. Realization sets in.
He notices her, and looks slightly confused. What is she doing here? “I left him at the bar…”, she tells him, “I thought you guys were already there… so I told him I would walk home…” she trails off.
They stand at a lack for words. Emotion brewing deep, but they both stand strong, both unsure and stubborn.
She desprately wants a hug, to melt away the coldness between them. They don’t even look at each other. She ducks her head as she swoops to steal a look at him. It’s painful to see how much they both hurt. How lost they are without each other.
Later at home, she envisions a different moment. One where the corner is transformed into their own little world as they hold tight to each other, both silently swearing never to let go again. The world continues around them. People pass in their cars, capturing a sight of the lovers drenched in the rain, oblivious. Time stands still, they stand unmoving, unaware. Time need not go on any further, for all they need is that moment. One moment.
Wouldn’t you stay in the never ending moment with me?
Hours later she still longs to speak to him. To find some solace in understanding.
Life seems to have lost it’s perspective. Idlely she wonders at the meaning, the purpose behind tomorrow, and the next day. She realizes that for the moment she is left without desire, aspiration and hope. She has lost her dreams, her sleep has fled.
But what can be done? She calls seeking just to hear his voice… she wonders if he’s ignoring her. If he feels the same. If he’s just as lost, as listless.
She shakes away those thoughts for the tenth time of the day. Closing her eyes she entreats her faith to pull her through, to give purpose and direction.
And then she wonders what might have been…
if she would have leaned in for a hug.
But what can be done? Returning to old ways seems like an uninspired path. Dreams seem to be so far off, and so unobtainable.
If only she could feel a connection. To know what he dreams of, to see the visions in his mind of their tomorrow. To feel the motivation in his heart. To be able to trust her intuition.
They don’t want to waste each other’s time. They both want what’s best. “Draw the line”, others say.
So strikingly odd to go from being so close to so far. From the only one who knows you, to strangers in passing.
I suppose the only way to know what tomorrow will bring is to go to bed, to lay my head down, to hope for sleep. If sleep evades me I will silently pray for morning, for a new day, for tomorrow.


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