Willows, Phobos, and Hexes, Oh My...
The only sound was the noise a willow tree makes when a breeze came.
He had grown to hate the sound.
She had been crying for some time, he supposed. Her eyes were puffy and red. Matthew felt the need to reach out and touch her face, to comfort her. But, he was the reason for the tears and was powerless to stop them.
She sniffed, “Matt we have to talk.”
He perked up, something about the tone of her voice. Something that was not right. Matthew kept silent, waiting.
Trying to get past the tears she cried out, “I can’t go on like this anymore. It has to stop.”
She closed her eyes to allow the tears to try and hold back more tears. Unsuccessful, she held a tissue to her eyes. Tracy seemed to cry even more when she opened her eyes to see her wedding and engagement rings, sparkling in the evening light.
Still, Matthew was unable to reach out for her, to comfort her.
“Why did you leave!” she shrieked, “You left me when I needed you most…”
Matthew tried to defend himself, but she cut him off.
“Do you know how many lonely nights I suffered? The nights alone in our bed!” she looked down then looked back her eyes filled with anger and sadness, “How hard it was to explain to Kasey that her daddy wasn’t coming back?!”
Stopping for a moment she went on, “How I had to get a second job for a while just to meet our expenses.” Tracy added angrily, “All because you couldn’t be responsible. Be a grown-up about life.”
“You failed us.”
Then she fell silent. Grew thoughtful.
“We have to say goodbye.” She blurted out. He was stunned, the shock left me numb. Matthew started to say something but she continued, “I need to move on with my life.”
She looked up and tried to smile, “I am dating again.”
His mind stopped and he felt my heartbreak at that simple statement.
It was over.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.