❛ Grief can derange even the strongest and most disciplined of minds. ❜
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It was like he knew who and what she was. Though she was growing out of the shell that hid her from the light of the world, the darkness in her veins couldn’t be drained out of her so soon. She was a work in progress, an incomplete painting still wet from the layers of reds and blues pressed against the surface of the canvas. She was a sequence of colors that darkened the soul, waiting to be dried before light could be added on.
She pressed her lips into a thin line before she smiled, a nervous and awkward laugh caught in her throat before it echoed quietly in the rowdy cafe. The dimly lit room complemented what she was feeling: calm and thoughtful as though she were deciphering the world’s greatest riddle that was right before her eyes.
“People always said the truth hurts.” Her tone was light, furrowing her eyebrows. “It hurts even more to know that probably everyone has felt grief at whatever level more than once in their life.”
she wanted to ask him what had pained him the most, but that is a boundary she will not pass. She knew where she stood, and she would do nothing to cross a line he clearly drew. If she couldn’t do that for him then she couldn’t expect him to let her in so easily. It was smart move for the both of them. They were neither friends nor enemies, merely acquaintances who shard a drink or two with one another whenever their schedules matched. And yet she never had to look far and wide to find him. It wasn’t hard to find him walking on the sidewalk on her way home from work. It almost seemed as though life had wanted them to tear down their walls whether for the better or worst.
“I’m sure you had your fair share of grief. Has it made you stronger or has it just made you more prepared for what could come in life?”
