Doubt.

It’s the middle of winter. She’s settled down to the idea of him. His smile. His scent. His touch. The taste and sound of him.

Her boyfriend.

Funny, being blind can make one deaf as well. If not, why doesn’t she hear the whispers?

“Some girls just don’t care.”

“It’s a pity, she’s such a pretty girl.”

“… she doesn’t know.”

 

It starts on a Monday.  He cancels on their dinner plans.  Of course, it’s cool – she’s understanding. That’s what he likes most about her. They’ll get together when things calm down.

Tuesday and Wednesday confuse her, what’s with his silence?

Thursday morning he calls and her heart flutters. Yes, she’s free. Gone are thoughts of playing it cool. He misses her. Can they spend the night indoors? Yes, of course.

She wakes up first. Gets a feeling but shakes it off. He wakes and says he’ll be busy, might not be around for a few days.  She understands right? He rushes out the door, declining her offer of an omelette.

Saturday. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday.

 

Friday. There’s a truth nagging at her. It’s nipping at her heels, demanding to be acknowledged. A truth about too busy, too tired, other plans, shifty eyes and short tempers.

 

Saturday night she visits. Ignores his question and walks passed him.

Sees something to make her heart sore and her mind sure.

She turns and leaves.

 

It’s now spring. She’s settled down to the truth of him.  He’s not her boyfriend, he never was.

 

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