Gone

‘Don’t touch me’, were the last words she said prior to walking away. He stood there, nonchalant. In distorted folly, his misguided thoughts opted him to believe she would come back.

He waited. He was gradually becoming deaf to the sound of her heels clicking on the stone footpath. Her pace was lacking of brisk heavy steps, which he had become accustomed to whenever she retired in bitterness. This time she moved slowly. A witch being escorted to the gallows. And he, the King who had summoned her to death.

The sentence posed a vile reality. A reality that failed to register in this brain. His delinquency concocted a vision of her turning around to recede towards him. Her face would hide the animosity behind a forgiving smile, but though the hint of sadness remained, she would hold him nonetheless.

Today, there seemed a whiff of unpredictable weather. His forecast had been a case of malpractice. He watched like a spectator to a movie he had never seen. He closed his eyes for a second, in the hopes that when he opened them again he would see her sweet countenance before him. But he was witness to her petite form growing smaller as she moved further into the distance. She climbed into her car, without even a fleeting backward glance. He faintly heard the engine rev up to life. And she was gone.