NORA OF IRELAND.Â
Being surrounded by four walls was never her favourite place to begin with, but the tightness of the solid walls became almost unbearable when everything that ran through her head was a frantic stream of worry, guilt, panic. She wasnât certain on the rules of this god forsaken place, but as sheâd stepped foot onto the sandy shore she didnât care. She couldnât remember the last time sheâd been alone. The quietness only interrupted by the waves was much welcomed and needed. Even if it only lasted a few moments. Maybe if the voice that broke the peace had been anotherâs she would have been disappointed, but Gabe was anything but a disappointment. Glancing over her shoulder, Nora allowed a small, gentle smile to tug at the corner of her lips, a single shoulder pulling up in a usual uncharacteristic shrug as her lips parted. âYou could say something like thatâI use to be able to sleep anywhere but it seems as though these mattresses are my kryptonite.âÂ
There it was -- that single-shouldered shrug of hers. Even now, the sight still made him weak in the knees. She truly reminded him of Audrey Hepburn -- a timeless, doll-faced beauty. But it wasnât only her looks that made him fall. Nora was intelligent, compassionate. She had a sense of duty that paralleled Gabeâs. He had so big a heart many lovers came after her, but she was one of the few good ones. Indispensable in value, rare. What wrongs did he commit to lose her? The day she left was a hundred daggers to his chest. Had he known of such pain before, he would have chased after her, if only to demand for a cure. But he was a coward. He sought healing from another woman. Looking at her now, even more beautiful than the last time he saw her, was another stab to the heart. And just like that, Gabriel felt his wounds open. Long-buried feelings gushed out of his chest. For a moment, he considered bidding her a good night, telling her sleep had finally overcome him. But he knew sheâd be able to tell something was off. And so he sat on the sand beside her, careful to leave her ample space. The last thing she wanted was to cause her discomfort -- not now, not ever. If her mattress was her Kryptonite, was it alright to say his Kryptonite was her? âThese mattresses really are the devil, arenât they?â Gabriel tried his hardest to keep his tone casual, even though her presence had turned his mind into a cacophony of unresolved feelings. âAnd to think there are people who sleep on the streets. How do they manage?âÂ
