She walked out the door and as her tiny hand reached unwaveringly backwards, the words that had danced in his heavy chest for weeks finally began to make their move. Climbing, inching up the eminence of his throat. Choking through to the light. Tripping over tonsils. Wrapping themselves around his tongue trying to swirl their way out. While her fingers wrapped tightly around the cold brass knob pulling the weight of every moment preceding this one swiftly behind her, his words, at last, floated from his lips in search of her ears. Too late, they found the only the door.
UM woa. this is good.
ReplyDeleteYou write so beautifully and I am fully loving so much about not only your writing, but your blog and forms of expression! Thank you for it all! :)
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