Day 110 – Open

Word count: 514

 

The rain was torn from the sky and a chill ripped through her veins. It was the dead of morning. No one stirred. She was a watercolour painting, trapped by the boundaries of an eternal emotional nightmare. Like a painting, she would always be the exhausted girl with the windswept hair, the draping cape and the gaunt eyes of someone who would forever be waving goodbye.

She was the living image of that painting. The road glistened with rain, pit pattering splashes on to her bare feet. She had run from her home, barely getting dressed. She had no keys, no purse and nothing but a thin cloak to cover her modesty. But as hard and as fast as she had run through the city streets, cracking her feet open on the rough roads, she was too late.

The bus was pulling out of the station as she had staggered to a halt, adrenaline fading fast to pained regret for not getting there in time; for not being able to say all the things that had been speeding through her brain faster than she had been running.

His face was staring at her through the rain spattered window and everything she had ever wanted to say came flooding back to her. She could have shouted it; she could have yelled it…. but she remained silent, lips closed tightly and her mouth dry with fear. She had all the words there; she need only to put them together, like a jigsaw. But she chose not to. It was easier.

In slow motion, his face passed her and she let go of the rope that was tying her down. It slid through her hands and snaked off towards him. It was relieving, like a weight had been lifted and the first light that broke the night into dawn. She waved but he did not return it. Two years of love and anguish were finally drawing to a close and she was not sure if there was ever a moment in her life that she felt more liberated than she did now.

But something clutched at the insides of her throat and writhed around inside her stomach. It was as if she had swallowed all the words she might have said and they were choking her from the inside. If only she had screamed them from the top of her voice; if only she had said all the things that she had meant to, planned to; if only she had been the feisty girl of her dreams; if only she could yell to the world exactly how she felt about the man who – at hearing those words – could so easily break her heart.

But she couldn’t. And so the bus would be forever driving away from her on that sad and dark morning; those words would never be spoken and she would always be the girl that waited, having arrived that little bit too late… drenched in water, drowned in regret and suffering the infernal despair of someone who would be forever waving her loved one goodbye.

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~ by S.G. Mark on January 25, 2012.

2 Responses to “Day 110 – Open”

  1. awwwwwwwww… why does it try to sell me an I pad when I scroll over certain words?

    • because you are clearly a robot for not sleeping for over 24hrs (i am reading the date you posted that comment) and you would naturally need an iPad as a human interface.

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