Writing
As They Come Alive
(January 4, 2012)
Cynthia/Steven
His hands are knitted together tightly and the fluorescent light above glares down upon his face.
“You’re leaving already?”
Cynthia crosses one leg over the other, eyes focused on the ground. Her heart beats wildly, uncontrollably, and it scares her how she’s lost her control over the situation, frightens her. Quietly, softly, she nods.
Steven looks at her while she looks at the floor. Outside, Mossdeep is a ruckus of wind and rain and emotion, the whole city a blur.
“Alright, then . . .”
He gets up from the table and turns his back on her, his fists balled together tightly. He reeks of sadness and defiance as he looks outside the window, to the world surrounding them. He crosses his arms over his chest.
“You know where the door is.” Finality. Bitter, frigid finality.
Cynthia opens her lips. Words do not come out, only air. Her body shakes. She stands up from the table and backs away, her eyes never leaving the back of his head.
After a few cold seconds, she finally turns away from him and towards the door, her hand touching the knob. She is almost gone, so close to being gone, but he is there in one moment, his hand grazing her skin. In that second, Cynthia can feel their connection, that undeniable need and thirst that she has for him and he for her.
Something inside her breaks, turns to dust, and drifts beneath the floorboards. This is how things should be; they should be together, one entity in two different bodies, for forever.
“I’ll stay . . . but only for a little while longer.”
And they meld together.
Note: One of my resolutions for the New Year was to get back to writing... so here I am. I've decided I'm going to try and at least post one tidbit of writing here once a week. If you have anything you'd like to see, just leave me a comment below and I'll try to write something for you! Thanks for reading ♥