He rolled off his bed, still trembling from the emotional pain she had inflicted on him. He stumbled out of the house, and ran down the street, strangers streaming by as tears tracked down his cheeks. He needed escape, he needed an outlet, and he knew just where to get it. He ran on, fading into the darkening neighborhood.

She waited for the call, the knock, the rock on her window that would tell her he was here to beg for her again. She knew that she had a hold over him, but she was worried. She needed him just as much as he needed her, and she didn’t know what to do if he didn’t come. The pain she had caused herself seemed silly now, something that she shouldn’t have done. After all, she had been so sure that he would come back to her and that she would take him in with open arms, just like a movie. But he wasn’t an actor; there was no script to follow, and no cues from the side. Lines weren’t laid out, stages weren’t set, and everything was explicitly real.

She waited.

There was only silence.

He cried harder, on the rocks that he had told her he had loved her. He watched the lake fade from a vivid blue to a bright orange to a dark, deep green. He stared into the water, wishing he was brave enough to beg for her back, at the same time strong enough to walk away, and he was torn.

The silence stretched on. It became a THING, sitting next to her. This THING would smile, a dreadful, thin smile that was all teeth. She loathed the THING, she needed to get the THING out before the smile became a hungry maw that would eat her, just gobble her up, and she needed this THING gone, now, now, NOW. There was something heavy in her hand without her realizing it, and it was flung across the room before she could realize what it was. It slammed against the wall, the THING was gone, but the damage she had just done brought her to her knees.

He realized sorrow would do nothing, woe will hold him back. Teas will only drown him in emotion, and memories are only dusty things on shelves. Better to let them sit for a while then to pick them up and worry about them fading. He didn’t have the strength to go on now, but he never would if that was his excuse. He would have to try, work her out of his life, before nostalgia drove him over the edge.  He walked slowly, leaving behind the rocks and the love, no hope left, only cold determination flooding his soul. He went with no direction, but he did not care. He knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight. Let me wander, he thought. I can face life tomorrow. But tonight, let me wander.

And he did.

The tears threatened to overpower her; the strength ebbing away as she realized the picture she had thrown was ripped to shreds, torn by the glass. He had looked so handsome in that picture, she so pretty. It was the only photo she had, the one she looked at almost constantly, and now it was gone, just like him. All her fault, hers, she realized now. Love was not a game, hearts were not toys. She knew that now, but now was too late. She had thrown him away, and he did not intend to come back. Shadows and regrets consumed her, gray wings over her eyes. And she let the tears take her, she had no desire to fight anymore.

And she didn’t.