The following weeks were simple.
We went back to normal, attempting to pretend that the past never happened.
To pretend the infidelity of a different time never existed.
We went to the movies.
The park.
Dinner.
I will not deny that the feeling didn't linger, that at times my subconsience didn't remind itself that this man wasn't to be trusted.
But here we sat on a park bench.
Him and I.
How it should have been in the first place.
He looked at me the way he used to, love and honesty.
Love and honesty...
Love and honesty...
Damn it, I hate those words.
I hate writing these things.
I hate remembering.
Chaz and I would walk that path once again.
He would hold my hand, kiss my cheek, play with my hair.
The way it should have always been.
YOU ARE READING
To Those Who Worry
Short StoryWill she? Wont she? Will he? Wont he? Sierra wonders, steadily holding the glass cup in her hands, looking down at the bright screen of his cellphone. The glass that will soon be in hundreds of little glass shards all over the wooden flooring. The...
