The Impossible Event.

~2~

25/4/15

I sat curled up on the sofa, as I stared at Benedict Cumberbatch on the tv, in all his curly hair glory. The day was so cold, the wind is blowing with the furious rain. It's been a couple of days, and I've given up on worrying. The letters were going to reach them anyway, it was useless to do so. The damage was done, and the result is inevitable.

I hear the bell ring, and I skip off to the door, wondering who it could be.

I peak through the key hole.

Falaah.

No, no, no.

I walk away from the door. I don't want to talk to him. He'll leave soon enough. He'll think the house is empty and he'll leave.

I don't want to hear him yell at me, I don't want to see his face only to see him walk away again.

So I stand next to my teak wood door, and see him look at the door too, his face devoid of emotions.

It's raining grey, and he's drenching in the cold. I should let him in.

He continues staring, as I wonder how long it'll take him to leave. At the same time, I want him to stay. I want my Falaah to still exist. I want him to care, and make me feel okay. Make me feel wonderful. I don't want the furry of anger to rain on me.

I lean against the door, and sit down, my knees going week.

I can feel his heat through the door. The wood vibrates as he knocks again. I stand up.

I put my hand on the knob.

It feels so cool, so metallic.

He's right there. He's never been so close to me in years.

I turn around, and walk away.