(( Open to Storm ))
Things have been quiet, lately. After the night in the bar he's aware he's crossed a line, so he's retreated to the dark controllessness of her mind, quietly watching her as she goes about her life. He's so quiet these last few days that he wonders if she thinks he's gone entirely.
Apologies never came easily to him. Certainly they don't mold themselves into words or phrases. Instead he's just been giving her her peace, and when she sleeps he wakes up her body, but not her mind, and makes tea or coffee for her to be ready in the morning, does all the mundane tasks her distracted mind's forgotten to complete in the last few days, tucks her in. To the outside viewer it would look like sleepwalking, but it lets her rest, he thinks, and it communicates the apology that any words or thoughts can't.
Today she wakes up with coffee and breakfast awaiting her next to her bed. The weather's beautiful.
Apologies never came easily to him. Certainly they don't mold themselves into words or phrases. Instead he's just been giving her her peace, and when she sleeps he wakes up her body, but not her mind, and makes tea or coffee for her to be ready in the morning, does all the mundane tasks her distracted mind's forgotten to complete in the last few days, tucks her in. To the outside viewer it would look like sleepwalking, but it lets her rest, he thinks, and it communicates the apology that any words or thoughts can't.
Today she wakes up with coffee and breakfast awaiting her next to her bed. The weather's beautiful.