Writing: Moment in Time - Leave

He watches her walk out the door, feeling the emptiness close around him; envelope him. Turning towards the window, he watches as she leaves the building, her hair waving its own farewell in the cool breeze. He wishes he could have done more, knowing he could have done more makes it worse. His head lightly presses against the chilled glass and closes his eyes. He hears her car door slam and the engine turn. He feels the rumble of the car moving across the cobblestones in his bones, shaking him deep in his core. He opens his eyes as she rounds the corner, the corner where they first met. The corner where they would last see each other.

He slowly sinks down, settling in the chair next to the window, his eyes unable to lift from the floor. He stares at the dish she threw, shattered and broken, lying on the floor in a beautiful picture of chaos. This was one of his problems, he thinks to himself. He always saw beauty in everything else, but never told her how beautiful she was. He was the deep artistic type, he berates himself, always thinking how to turn his life into poetry in motion. He would get angry when his life didn't match his writing and would silently accuse her for being the cause.

Now what did that get him, he asks himself as he looks up, tears standing in his eyes. A sudden sight strikes him with the blow of a sledge hammer. He notices for the first time the beauty she created for him. The play of colors between the rooms she designed. The warmth of the bedroom, the inviting nature of the bed and candles surrounding it. She tried to make everything as how he wanted it, but he never saw it. He stands up and looks out the window, hoping. . .praying she would suddenly be out there so he could run down there and beg her to come back; forgive him. Outside the window the rain just began, falling on an empty street on this chilly night.