Arbitrary TheorySaturday, January 11, 2014
He was sitting on the opposite end of the bed, his face only illuminated by soft, yellow light.
The air was thick with unspoken words and everything unacknowledged. She could see from the corner of her eye that he followed her every move. He said nothing. After she took a drag on her cigarette, she stood in front of him and leaned to whisper in his ear, "I don't want to go, too."
I didn't want to go. I really didn't want to. But I had to.