She is alone, quite alone. She stands on the corner of a dark street, a single street lamp illuminating her face. She wears a floor length burgundy gown, a long black coat, buttoned against the wind, and her hair lies in curls down her back. She hears a noise behind her; she turns her head in anticipation, a smile pulling up the corners of her rosy lips. Just the wind. She turns back, her spirits lowered. She checks a delicate watch on her wrist: 12:34 A.M. He's late. He's very late. But still a smile, smaller this time, dances on her lips.
Suddenly, thunder explodes in the sky above her. A flash of lightning brightens the sky for a moment before it begins to rain. She struggles to pull an umbrella out of a bag and does so just in time. But it's barely sprinkling. She's using the umbrella to protect herself from something else. The umbrella is of a hard material, not mere flimsy cloth. Objects fall from the sky, and she was expecting this. Crumpled up papers, computer monitors, cell phones, books, pens, pencils, jackets, nail polish, and movie tickets crash only upon her umbrella. When the storm is finished, she tosses away the dented umbrella. It begins to rain, hard now. But she doesn't pick up the umbrella. She closes her eyes, looks to the sky, and opens them again. All of the water flows from the sky back into her eyes. Where they belong. Where they started off. She has now filled herself back up with tears. The rain stops and a single tear cascades down her cheeks that she wipes away. "He's not coming." She whispers. She starts to walk down the street.
Little does she know, he's hiding in a bush nearby. He's watching her. He's been chained to the ground, his mouth gagged. He struggles to rustle the bush and let her see him. "Please, let her find me. Let her find me. Let her find me." He thinks frantically.
She walks past the rustling bush and glares at it, as if it's done her a great personal evil. It just might've. He murmurs from behind the gag. "I"M HERE! I CAME!" He practically screams but it comes off as an incomprehensible jumble of noises. She walks a little faster, glancing back at the bush in fear. When she is out of sight, the bonds fall off. "I came." He whispers. 713 feet ahead of him, she collapses. A vine snakes out of an ivy hedge and pulls her into the greenery. More vines and leaves twine themselves around her until she is well hidden. All is quiet within the hedge for a moment until he comes blundering past, calling her name. She doesn't answer. She is unconscious. She dreams of all that she wishes to happen. She thinks of his eyes, his strength, his words. She feels nothing in her sub-conscious. It is a relief, even if it be a tiny one.
Most nights I hardly sleep, don't take what you don't need from me. Misplaced trust.
