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Feelings ~Blythe~
The air was thick and humid as the air conditioner struggled to keep up. My lungs begged for air as I breathed deeper than normal. It wasn't just the humidity from the weather, but the humidity from our conversation that made it so hard to breathe.
He asked me not in voice but through subtle motions what I thought of him. I couldn't lie. He was nothing special.
Perception, I remembered. As I began my explanation.
His eyes widened as I noticed the size of his irises, I remembered learning that means honesty, and I was no longer sure.
He talked about the nights he'd wake, with a tangled body and a knotted mind. Aching bones and itchy eyes. He told me he'd felt his heart sewing itself to hers, and he couldn’t stop it. I was breathless, again.
Comparisons, I thought. As I began to write it all down.
I lowered myself to the floor in search of truth. Hoping maybe I'd find it among tiny grains of dirt that had been ground into the carpet. I found nothing as the blood drained to my head, and my heart drained to my stomach. A solid organ had turned itself to liquid and attempted dispersal throughout my body. Like a meandering river, it began a long and emotional journey. My brain had no connection; my heart was running my body.
Empathy, I sighed. As I looked to the clock.
I hate watching clocks, and hearing them is the worst. Tick, tick, and tick. Seconds in my life tick by. I'll never relive them, and they're gone…gone…gone. And I am gone.
Infinite, what If I am? As I play with the torch on my bench.
It turns on and the tiny globe gives out light. It makes a large yellow circle on the roof. For a moment it is my sun. Then I shine it into his large irises and he squints and looks away. Honesty, I laugh a game we play. I look into the globe as it gets fainter and fainter, until it is no longer.
Destruction, I blink. I could be infinite if it weren't for destruction. I give him a moment to regain his composure and he lifts his head and his eyes are grey. I always thought they were blue, but now, in a moment of evil I fear his grey eyes. I pictured his tangled body and tangled sheets on a humid night. I pictured his knotted mind and it all made sense.
Intuition, I realised. As I stood and ran for the door.
My body moving faster than my head, my mind is moving faster than my body. Women fight better than men do when they are in danger I remembered, as I grabbed at the locked door and struggled with the bolt. Smashing glass with my hands, bleeding I struggled.
Death, I feared. As a gunshot rang in my ears. I was safe on the floor as I turned to see him.
Insanity, I crawled. As I realised my heart, my ruling organ had saved me.
READER'S REVIEWS (3) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"That was...awesome. I could feel and identify with the character's/your frantic thoughts." -- Maggie.
"Beautiful as always Blythe, sorry... ~Blythe~, there much better. But my only question is, is the "torch" in your story what Americans like myself refer to as a flashlight?, or is it just an old fashioned torch?" -- EC Allen.
"Yeah!! Like a flashlight! " -- ~Blythe~.
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