sjsprWriting

He had only just begun to pack his bags. She watched him, naked on the bed, thick, blackened tears running down her face.

“We could’ve made it work, you know?” he shot.

“No, no,” she whispered drunkenly.

She wobbled to her feet, and slugged on over to him. The sheets barely covered her. He stopped what he was doing, and merely watched her. Watched how she fell slowly to pieces. Watched how her pale skin throbbed with swirling intoxication. Watched how her auburn hair stuck to her damp, perspiring face.

“I tried,” she said. “I tried, and you’re-.” She tripped. “You’re leaving.”

Angrily, he grasped her arm and hauled her towards him. She cringed, and gulped, and hid, and gulped. She didn’t like the way he looked at her.

“You left a long time ago,” he said.