continuing breeze. "And I waited awhile, hoping against all hope you would come to realise..." he trailed off.
"Why?" she managed to barely whisper. He barely heard it against the rustle of leaves brushed by the wind.
"It's not fair, I know," he continued. "I cannot change what has happened; what will happen." He cradled her head against his shoulder. "But I am with you now. I can stay awhile."
The first words of resolve from her mouth that evening were spoken, with serenity and resignation. "If that is what you can give," she paused to sob and breathe, "then that is what I will take."
***
At the beginning he returned home from a long study overseas. He came empty handed, but with much experience to share. Or so he thought. He was arrogant, but he worked hard to not let it show. He thought it would all revolve around him. He was a fool.
He beheld her for the first time in that hall in the gathering of strangers. Had she noticed him? But she was just another in a throng of strangers, and a passing thought for then.
His mind was fixated unto Westbourne Grove, the street where in the cold English winters of the past he spent time and shared misted breath with her. But is more than one of her; each a different person, each from a different place, a different world altogether. They are all her, for what they have in common; they will always end in tragedy and sorrow.
Somehow, whether in his arrogance or positive thinking he thought it was going to be different this time. The details of the hall with the throng of strangers were nebulous in his recall, but he remembered her despite her being a passing thought at the time.
"Why?" she managed to barely whisper. He barely heard it against the rustle of leaves brushed by the wind.
"It's not fair, I know," he continued. "I cannot change what has happened; what will happen." He cradled her head against his shoulder. "But I am with you now. I can stay awhile."
The first words of resolve from her mouth that evening were spoken, with serenity and resignation. "If that is what you can give," she paused to sob and breathe, "then that is what I will take."
***
At the beginning he returned home from a long study overseas. He came empty handed, but with much experience to share. Or so he thought. He was arrogant, but he worked hard to not let it show. He thought it would all revolve around him. He was a fool.
He beheld her for the first time in that hall in the gathering of strangers. Had she noticed him? But she was just another in a throng of strangers, and a passing thought for then.
His mind was fixated unto Westbourne Grove, the street where in the cold English winters of the past he spent time and shared misted breath with her. But is more than one of her; each a different person, each from a different place, a different world altogether. They are all her, for what they have in common; they will always end in tragedy and sorrow.
Somehow, whether in his arrogance or positive thinking he thought it was going to be different this time. The details of the hall with the throng of strangers were nebulous in his recall, but he remembered her despite her being a passing thought at the time.
