Notes: A short segment in time, some thoughts, a random moment. This is something else I found in the midst of cleaning. Anyway, I think it's set in the future, a Lit, of course. Enjoy. Or not. Heh, whatever. This is completed, by the way.
Disclaimer: (oh, this goes for the story "The Unspoken" as well as any other stories I didn't do disclaimers for) I am in no way affiliated with ASP/WB/GG-Productions. Characters aren't mine, people. No copyright infringement intended. In other words, I own not, you sue not.
For: Aww, heck, let's give this one to Ari; the sweetest person ever.
Quiescence
She wonders when it all became "routine".
(wake up, dress, "I love you", then out the door)
When did it become so empty and unfeeling?
Did he feel it too?
Maybe he's gotten sick of her. This is her biggest worry.
Sometimes he comes into bed, late at night, tossing and turning. Restless.
They don't take walks anymore (to the bookstore, to the park, to the theater), nor do they go out with friends. They're both too caught up in their own work.
She's always on a way for assignments; he's always traveling, lecturing at book conferences. Their paths never seemed to cross. Never seem to lead to one another.
She's always hated symbolism.
She worries, he's silent, and they never seem to be going anywhere.
Despite all of this, all of the tension, she doesn't speak. She's not sure she knows what to say. Sometimes she has to play with the gold band (blinding and unforgiving) to remember that they both made the same promise.
Sometimes at night, when he's away, she listens to the ringing silence that echoes throughout the house. She tries to plug her ears, but if she does that, then she's hear her own thoughts being screamed back to her. She doesn't want to take that chance.
She doesn't want to think about what he could be doing without her.
She knows she should say something, take a risk, a chance.
Theirs is a relationship that is worth saving.
She's ready. Right? Yes, she's ready.
She's so sick of their monosyllabic conversations, the silence during meals (breakfast, lunch, dinner). So sick of this empty feeling that they've both created.
She wants to take walks again (to the theater, the bookstore, the park).
She's so scared; she's not sure why.
Maybe she's afraid that once they have this conversation, she'll be broken because he'll reveal that he doesn't want her anymore; doesn't love her anymore.
She sucks in a breath, comes into his study, and speaks, "Jess?"
"Hmm?" he replies, not looking up from the pad of paper he's scribbling on.
Maybe she could do it.
Maybe this will be the defining moment for them.
"Never mind."
Maybe not.