Misplaced Win-ter Games

As she sat alone in the dark beneath the pitch-black sky, her motionless reflection mirrored in the waters in front of her. She couldn’t make out the shadow. She didn’t recognize the boney frame staring back at her. “Why isn’t she moving?”, she asked, as she fell back into the piercing embrace of the freezing brown bench. Within moments, the cold of the air started to occupy the spaces around her, gradually attacking the empty spaces between her – the empty spaces between her fingers. She froze. The icy atmosphere consumed her entire being. She shivered. And with every breath of cool air that blew against her, her system withered and went numb.

It was not the chill of the cold that was freezing her heart. It was the cold of his heart.

Standing up, she walked away. She continued her journey in search of that familiar and irreplaceable warmth. She needs to rediscover herself, to find herself from the second he left her. He left her broken. “Where did he go?”, a question that will forever remain a mystery, like the uncertainty of her tomorrow.

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