A/N: So in the midst of life I was struck with this idea. So I wrote, and this is what came out. Please review and let me know what you think.
Devaney
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A Picture
"I'll be back." He said and left. She sat on the couch the leather sticking to the backs of her legs where the skirt ended. Sweat sprung up on her palms and she wiped them on the skirt her hands coming to rest on her knees. He was a minimalist the couch and glass-metal table were the only furniture in the room. The windows gleamed and through them the lights of the city shone in sharp relief against the black sky.
It was like a picture.
She walked to the shelves. They were stacked high. She ran a finger against the spine of a well-worn cover. The books were soothing to her, the books were the same. A familiar cover caught her eye and she took the book from the shelf careful not to disrupt its neighbors. If everything looked the same then she could pretend she hadn't been here. She gazed at the cover, the slightly raised print of the title and the name in small silver print beneath.
She opened to a random page. The margins were filled with his cramped writing. Things he would add, things he would take away. She sighed, how unfair it was that you couldn't do the same with life. She flipped to the front; after all it was best to start at the beginning.
There was an extra page.
He had removed a page from the copy he had given her. She tried to recall her copy. It was on her bedside table the pages bent from perpetual use. She could see the cover slightly bowed from the time she had fallen asleep, the cover trapped backwards under her head as the dream if his world lulled her into a trance.
She was sure.
There was no page before the first chapter. When she had read it she was bothered. The lack of a dedication wasn't like him. But then again she didn't really know him anymore. She had brushed it aside just as she had the memories. They were her personal Pandora's Box. Her only weakness, the blissful moments were a sickness that could bring her world down.
She didn't notice her hand shaking until the page slipped from between her fingers. She felt the world shift as she read the two lines in small print.
For Her. My inspiration for writing,
My inspiration for life.
Her. That word changed everything. Her plan wouldn't work, because she could no longer make it work. It was different. He was different. They were different. They cared.
He walked back into the room glasses in hand. She was gone. He sighed. He should have known better. He should have known. He set the glasses down on the wooden table by the door. He knew that they would leave rings on the table. Impressions of what wouldn't be.
And then he noticed a book. The Book. It was on the table. Face down and open to a page near the beginning. He knew which page. Hand shaking he picked up the book, its cover still warm from her caress. Under the dedication were three words.
"I'll be back."
He set the book down on the table and looked out the window. It was a beautiful view, the city was beautiful. If he closed his eyes just a fraction, the lights blended together and suddenly he was no longer looking at the city. He was looking at a sunset, the fiery colours shrinking as the blue-black of night encroached on the sky. He smiled.
It looked like a picture.
A/N: Et voila! Please review!