Move On
One of One
She was still hunted by his face as she walked away. It was as if someone had kicked him in the gut and he was in shock. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes wide and going faintly red. As she pulled her bag through the door he attempted a sad smile though he was evidently not strong enough, as she heard a distinct sob over the click of the lock.
Tears caught in her throat too as she trudged down the stairs. However, she soon realised hers were of guilt and not grief.
Guilt for leaving. Guilt for leading him on. Guilt for no longer caring. Guilt for never really caring.
On paper, she knew, he was perfect. She also knew that perfect on paper didn’t always mean much. In reality he was a prince, but she was no princess. He was everything she had ever dreamed of, but in her dream, she was in love with him.
She did not love him, and she never had. For three years she had lied through her teeth, hoping she would wake up the next day with her heart finding what her heart had known from the beginning.
But when she accidentally came across the ring in his coat pocket, she knew at last she would never feel what he felt, not about him.
So she packed her bags, telling herself it wasn’t running away if he saw her before she left. In retrospect, she decided, would have been better if she had just run away. For one thing, she was pretty sure her departure was even harder for him than it was for her.
On that point, she was right. If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to recall what his last words to her; ‘You’ll always know where to find me.’ Even if she could remember, she wouldn’t have gathered the significance.
The first thing he saw when he walked back in from work that day was her bags. He went in to their bedroom, and saw her drawers open and empty. He moved to the kitchen and saw her standing hesitantly by the fridge.
He was surprised, probably more than he should have been. To an outsider, it would have been quite clear. But they didn’t say love made you blind for nothing.
‘You’ll always know where to find me’ he managed to croak. She blinked and smiled politely before turning and leaving.
Less than an hour later, he too was really to walk out. He had packed a small bag: Another jumper, a cagoule, a sleeping bag, the photo from his bedside table, an empty cereal packet and a sharpie.
He wrote a note, just in case she came back:
“Going back to the corner
That I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleepin' bag
I'm not gonna' move
Got some words on cardboard
Got your picture in my hand
Sayin' if you see this girl
Can you tell her where I am”
He stood up, looked around at the place he had called home for so long. It felt empty, even though he had removed very little, and she hadn’t taken much more. He was ready, and he could leave straight away. He felt he should leave straight away. It was like ripping off a plaster, easier if you did it quickly he thought.
Tears caught in her throat too as she trudged down the stairs. However, she soon realised hers were of guilt and not grief.
Guilt for leaving. Guilt for leading him on. Guilt for no longer caring. Guilt for never really caring.
On paper, she knew, he was perfect. She also knew that perfect on paper didn’t always mean much. In reality he was a prince, but she was no princess. He was everything she had ever dreamed of, but in her dream, she was in love with him.
She did not love him, and she never had. For three years she had lied through her teeth, hoping she would wake up the next day with her heart finding what her heart had known from the beginning.
But when she accidentally came across the ring in his coat pocket, she knew at last she would never feel what he felt, not about him.
So she packed her bags, telling herself it wasn’t running away if he saw her before she left. In retrospect, she decided, would have been better if she had just run away. For one thing, she was pretty sure her departure was even harder for him than it was for her.
On that point, she was right. If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to recall what his last words to her; ‘You’ll always know where to find me.’ Even if she could remember, she wouldn’t have gathered the significance.
The first thing he saw when he walked back in from work that day was her bags. He went in to their bedroom, and saw her drawers open and empty. He moved to the kitchen and saw her standing hesitantly by the fridge.
He was surprised, probably more than he should have been. To an outsider, it would have been quite clear. But they didn’t say love made you blind for nothing.
‘You’ll always know where to find me’ he managed to croak. She blinked and smiled politely before turning and leaving.
Less than an hour later, he too was really to walk out. He had packed a small bag: Another jumper, a cagoule, a sleeping bag, the photo from his bedside table, an empty cereal packet and a sharpie.
He wrote a note, just in case she came back:
“Going back to the corner
That I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleepin' bag
I'm not gonna' move
Got some words on cardboard
Got your picture in my hand
Sayin' if you see this girl
Can you tell her where I am”
He stood up, looked around at the place he had called home for so long. It felt empty, even though he had removed very little, and she hadn’t taken much more. He was ready, and he could leave straight away. He felt he should leave straight away. It was like ripping off a plaster, easier if you did it quickly he thought.