8. The Blind Leading the Blind
Often times when the pressure was weighing down a bit too heavily on her, she would seek out Vincent, his familiarity solace to her ache. They would talk of little things, mundane nuisances, trivial and simple amusements, pains and the tuggings of strings. How pointless it was the subject of both their pain. How hypocritical it was for them to talk to each other on it. How selfish of her to run to him every time she felt the wall crushing her. How naïve it was of him to continue to indulge her. How stupid it was for them to continue this tradition.
Why, when in the end, they only hurt each other further? Why, when in the end, it would never help; for as long as he lived, they wouldn't be able to move forward.