Two Words
Lindsay tucked the edge of her scarf into the neck of her jacket as the wind fervently tried to release it from her grasp. She bustled like a native with the other cold New Yorkers who went about their daily lives having no time for the curious or the slow pedestrians who stood between them and their intended destinations. Despite the gloves that once held the promise of protection on the coldest winter days, her finger tips had become numb, so she struggled to find the openings of her coat pockets so that she could shove her hands in for a bit more warmth.
The subway musicians were not peppered along the subway platform, and it was just as well. Lindsay couldn't hear anything due to the continuous track that played over and over again in her mind.
Lindsay elbowed her way onto the subway car and wedged herself between the passengers who had staked their claim and the pole that was to be her lifeline. She disregarded their glares, claiming her own territory – the small piece of the pole that she managed to grasp with her small hand, knowing that if she swayed, one of her 'competitors' would have to buffer her fall.
She tried. She really did. She couldn't figure out if it was her or him. He had lost interest. The pursuit was over and she was left groveling for any crumbs of affection he might throw her way. After that first night, those crumbs were few and far between, and she had come to realize that they were no longer the tasty morsels she had made herself vulnerable for. She had made her interest known, had acted on it when she was ready, but now… now that his curiosity was satiated he had enough.
She would not continue to chase after him like a lap dog, only to be spurned. The least she could do was to keep her dignity.
Surprisingly, she didn't feel regret for acting on her feelings. At least she didn't have any regrets. They weren't tied to each other; they gave it a go and it fizzled out. It happens all the time.
The only problem was that they worked together so they would have to see each other everyday. Then she'd have to hear about the next woman – not from him, he'd never do anything like that, but word gets around fast. At least they hadn't made any promises or declarations to each other. That always makes it hard to walk away.
He left her the way he found her. Well, no, he didn't. But it wasn't his fault. He had nothing to do with what happened in her life before he met her. She was fundamentally changed. He was there when she needed him. He would be there again if she needed him, that much she knew. But the day those two words were uttered they both knew that his support for her had its limitations. He could never be there for her the way he could be there for a wife or the mother of his child.
At least one of them had the courage to say those words: "It's over."
A/N: I haven't done a one-shot in a while and I'm feeling a bit blue, so here it is… I was thinking about "It's Over" by Level 42, which is one of the saddest songs ever written, and I had to write this.