March 01, 2017

Morning

She looks around the table trying to catch his eye. He’s occupied with himself thinking of an alibi. Suddenly his phone rings, She gets on her toes like an alert magpie.

She drowns herself in her screen, Looking at him just above the mezzanine. He gets up, her heart skips, Meanwhile she can hear the voice of the mean oscine.

A thin sheet of glass is between her and him, and her, She cannot make anything of the words they whisper. Her heart sinks with prodigious bulk of black mass. She hopes of silver linings to wax her sanity’s timbre.

Unbeknownst to the poor girl, her world has just shattered behind the glass.