What Is Reality
"Let's go." With a simple glance backwards, that is all she says.
She doesn't have the patience to monitor him as his drunken shadow bounces off the bark of trees and the beams of street lights, nor does she have the strength to look into his pleading eyes again.
"I can get a cab. You know I really missed you." He says it in one, jumbled breath. A statement so casual and yet so troublesome, so matter of fact as well as controversial.
He says it again as he notices her body quivering from the cold.
He says it again as he places his coat over her shoulders.
He says its again.
"Shut up. I'm taking you home. Stop saying that. Shut up." The rest of the walk is silent.
Left heel, right heel, left heel, right heel.
Every cell in her body screams 'turn! leave! walk away now while you can, while you have good reason!' but she stays rooted in place fully aware that she will not, can not, turn her back on him. She looks him dead in the eyes, every decision jumping across her brain like a mad house. It always ends up being a battle between her better judgement and everything she knows she wants. It always ends the same.
She goes inside with him. She doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want to worry if he actually missed her, or if he ever really will.
She doesn't have the patience to monitor him as his drunken shadow bounces off the bark of trees and the beams of street lights, nor does she have the strength to look into his pleading eyes again.
"I can get a cab. You know I really missed you." He says it in one, jumbled breath. A statement so casual and yet so troublesome, so matter of fact as well as controversial.
He says it again as he notices her body quivering from the cold.
He says it again as he places his coat over her shoulders.
He says its again.
"Shut up. I'm taking you home. Stop saying that. Shut up." The rest of the walk is silent.
Left heel, right heel, left heel, right heel.
Every cell in her body screams 'turn! leave! walk away now while you can, while you have good reason!' but she stays rooted in place fully aware that she will not, can not, turn her back on him. She looks him dead in the eyes, every decision jumping across her brain like a mad house. It always ends up being a battle between her better judgement and everything she knows she wants. It always ends the same.
She goes inside with him. She doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want to worry if he actually missed her, or if he ever really will.