propped against doorframe, gaze
fixed and unmoving as she observes
the disarray. unable to register the
reality of the situation ; a life they
had built packed away so seemingly
easy. mouth twists, concealing
boxes, clothes, photographs. everything in the room was a complete mess right now ; but it came nowhere close to the one she was carrying inside her head.
she had already cried. god, of course she had.
a wound.
‘ do you have to leave so urgently?
you could stay until-— ’
until they come to their senses and
this whole thing blows over, is what
every once of her wants to suggest.
it’s what she might say if exhaustion