[2-803.10]
(a continuation from short story: [521-9])
She woke up like she did every morning. Looked at the clock and grunted. She hated how every morning her internal clock never let her sleep in. She always tried to, but it never worked out, as if her body knew before her mind that there was so much in store for her day than she could imagine.
For the past week, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Something had changed and she knew it would, but she didn’t know that it would have effected her this much.
He wasn’t there. He hadn’t been for a while. She knew deep down inside that he wasn’t there, but this morning it hit her- he wasn’t there and he never would be again. She never knew how much his presence meant to her, how much he mattered to her or how much she’d miss him.
They fought that morning exactly a week ago. It was the awkward silences and the cry in the shower that planted the thought in her head, but it was the late and inconsiderate acts that made her leave.
She was there, always. She cared for him. She thought she met his every expectation- she wanted to be his version of perfect. But this morning, as she looked in the mirror while brushing her teeth, she realized that she wasn’t.
They barely, more like didn’t, talked to each other all week. She was still so upset with him about everything. The only conversation they had on the phone was to let him know that she was gone, all her stuff was out and that she was fine.
That night, a week ago, she reached out and tried to understand while she waited and called him. She knew how much his best friend meant to him and would never want to get in the way. But the lack of effort to reassure her and understand was what motivated her to leave.
She wasn’t happy. She hadn’t been. She clouded her judgement with the thought of what could have been, but that night she knew what could’ve been was not going to happen. At least not with him or the person that he was.
* * *
She wrapped herself in her towel and ventured to her newly finished and unpacked closet. She couldn’t believe that a week ago she was crying at the foot of their bed so upset to pack up everything and leave.
When she left, it was spotless. Because she knew that night, that their place was no longer going to be theirs, but his. She didn’t want anything to be left behind. She didn’t want a single thing of hers left there- so she wouldn’t have to go back. She didn’t want to go back and see his face. Because that face belonged to the guy that basically told her that she, and everything that she was and gave to him, wasn’t enough.
She began to sift through her closet, remembering that’s the last time he saw her. She turned around as if she felt him staring at her like he was a week ago in the doorway before he went to work. The hairs on her body began to stand and goosebumps grew as water from her hair trickled down her body onto her towel.
* * *
She had to stop, she couldn’t breathe. She ran over to her bed and began to cry. He meant the world to her. But at that moment, her heart pained a little bit more. The thought struck her a little bit deeper and her sobbing became harder- she knew she would never be enough for him and what she did last night would never get him back.
[more to come… “mistake”]
