-1
To him, heaven is in her heart, that one place where he yearns to break into, to seal himself there and to live as freely as she does, to be with her, for even one day, to show her he never meant any of it, this would be his heaven.
But its far too late now.
He made his choice.
He had his chance.
And he knows all too well that it was the wrong one.
---
She's the leftover.
The casserole no one wants to eat.
She wouldn't mind it so much if only…
She knew it would have happened sooner or later.
She knew.
But she'd still clung to the fools hope that he'd stay, that he wouldn't go after the one he so desperately craved, the one she so desperately wanted to murder, the one for whom she was his only replacement.
But he hadn't.
…If only it didn't hurt so much
---
He's never been one for reading much, but now that he's here, the others don't trust him enough for missions, not yet anyway. Its all he has to do.
He reads books about adventure, excitement, courage, and knows that none of it is true.
He reads books on science, literature, money-making schemes, and knows that these are false.
Books on history, geography, religion, fiction, fact and none of them are true to him.
Not one.
Until he finds a book on poetry, Love poetry.
This is what is true to him.
---
For her the only solace is the activity.
The fighting, mauling, stealing world of missions from the black clothed man.
She can't even speak to him anymore.
Yes sir.
No sir.
It's the most she can say without…there's things that would come tumbling out., threats, pleas, begs, sobs, anything, everything she could use to make him bring her love back home.
Best of it is…he would do it too. If only she would ask.
---
They need him for this mission.
They didn't say why.
But he knows.
Dangerous, life threatening, more-so than usual.
They're taking him because he can be the muscle.
The front line man.
The expendable one.
He doesn't care anymore.