“Will you ever speak to me?”
She adjusted herself as best she could on the stiffness of the restaurant chairs.
The words fell on silence, or perhaps her mind was screaming such a cacophony that the words never left the tip of her tongue.
The place was as empty as the glass she didn’t bother to have refilled.
It left a ring of perspiration on the napkin it sat upon, but nothing as obvious like the man wiping his hands on his pants across from her.
He stared intently at the dark brown eyes that stared intently ahead, willing her acknowledgement.
A signal to break how many miles away she was, further than just a foot that the table spaced them. He took the risk anyway.
“I don’t have to leave until you want me to.”
Her cavernous mind mercilessly swallowed the words, muted to the wavelength of the background. Her mouth caged her passion, rage, terror and spite.
The girl shook her head, whether it was to ward off her demons or his presence remained a blur.
The man’s composure slipped through the crack of his lips.
“But you need to.”
He couldn’t have seared her with hotter words, a boiling slap that yanked her to that cold chair once more.
A lump in the girl’s throat croaked the agony. She met the eyes of the man she once studiously traced through various moonlit nights. How his laughs accompanied an endearing crinkle to his eyes.
Eyes just for her, the memory whispers.
She closed her eyes and reached for the man’s hand. It felt as if he reached right through her as he offered his hand in return.
The man stared at his outstretched hand long after hers no longer held his.
She was gone by then, but his heart told him otherwise.