Hollow
001
Her eyes well up into tears as she watches him go.
His posture is stoic and straight, and he leans to the side, the weight of his rucksack the slightest too heavy. The defined muscles of his biceps ripple through the white v-neck that had once hung loosely on him. A recently added tattoo on his forearm contrasts with his tanned skin, the black ink flicking up into spirals as it curves to make an M.
As he turns his head, she catches sight of his hazel eyes glistening with tears. His dark eyebrows crease in the middle as he frowns, and his forehead wrinkles. The buzz cut catches her attention again, and for a second she forgets what used to top his head. She remembers a second later, and the lack of his unruly dark curls upset her. It makes him look like new. It makes him look different.
She lets out a sob.
The pair connect eyes, and despite her grief she manages a smile. It's wobbly and it doesn't stay for very long, but his frown deepens and he stops walking. He turns around and drops his rucksack on the ground. Another sob breaks through her and that's all it takes for him to travel back to her.
He takes her in his arms, and allows his tears to fall freely while her own soak into his t-shirt. He doesn't know when he will see her next. He doesn't know how long his tour of duty will go on for. All he knows is that he's causing her pain, and he can't take it away.
"I love you," he whispers into her hair as his hand strokes her blonde locks.
"I love you, too," she whispers back. Her voice cracks at the end. She buries her head farther into his chest, too sad to feel embarrassed.
A whistle sounds behind him. He closes his eyes, pained, and slowly unwraps himself from her. He avoids her gaze, knowing fully well that once he looks into her green eyes he won't want to leave.
Without a word, he bows his head to place a kiss on her forehead. He lingers for a second more than he should, and she reaches out to him as he pulls away, gripping the thin material in her hands.
He pries her fingers off of his shirt, regret flushing through him as she trembles, and turns around once more. Taking a deep breath he regains his composure, slings his rucksack over his shoulder, and follows his comrades onto the airplane.
His posture is stoic and straight, and he leans to the side, the weight of his rucksack the slightest too heavy. The defined muscles of his biceps ripple through the white v-neck that had once hung loosely on him. A recently added tattoo on his forearm contrasts with his tanned skin, the black ink flicking up into spirals as it curves to make an M.
As he turns his head, she catches sight of his hazel eyes glistening with tears. His dark eyebrows crease in the middle as he frowns, and his forehead wrinkles. The buzz cut catches her attention again, and for a second she forgets what used to top his head. She remembers a second later, and the lack of his unruly dark curls upset her. It makes him look like new. It makes him look different.
She lets out a sob.
The pair connect eyes, and despite her grief she manages a smile. It's wobbly and it doesn't stay for very long, but his frown deepens and he stops walking. He turns around and drops his rucksack on the ground. Another sob breaks through her and that's all it takes for him to travel back to her.
He takes her in his arms, and allows his tears to fall freely while her own soak into his t-shirt. He doesn't know when he will see her next. He doesn't know how long his tour of duty will go on for. All he knows is that he's causing her pain, and he can't take it away.
"I love you," he whispers into her hair as his hand strokes her blonde locks.
"I love you, too," she whispers back. Her voice cracks at the end. She buries her head farther into his chest, too sad to feel embarrassed.
A whistle sounds behind him. He closes his eyes, pained, and slowly unwraps himself from her. He avoids her gaze, knowing fully well that once he looks into her green eyes he won't want to leave.
Without a word, he bows his head to place a kiss on her forehead. He lingers for a second more than he should, and she reaches out to him as he pulls away, gripping the thin material in her hands.
He pries her fingers off of his shirt, regret flushing through him as she trembles, and turns around once more. Taking a deep breath he regains his composure, slings his rucksack over his shoulder, and follows his comrades onto the airplane.
♠ ♠ ♠
Trying out a new writing technique. Constructive criticism is welcome.