The place is called Old Man’s cliff, small thing at the edge of the town; and as she stands there now, she kind of understands it. The grass beneath her feet faded and brown, shirking growth and life even with the season’s urges. The lone tree stands heavy, near dead branches sagging, moving slightly in the evening breeze.
it’s the silence..it’s so quiet here. She leans against the trunk now, and rubs at her arms absently. I should have brought a jacket, but it shouldn’t be taking this long… She remembers the last time she had come up here. With Dije.
It was in the early days, when she wasn’t the punch line of his joke on their nights out with friends, her drink clasped tight in her hands, false smile on her face. When the neighbors in the building didn’t give her pitying looks, because of “all the shouting and screaming dear, and are you alright?”. Read More »