hands-prayer-love-stories

Grey Skies

The watch weighed heavily on her frail wrist. Everything around her seemed to remind her of the repercussions that only time could send out. The sky was overcast, grey clouds stood their ground on what should have been a warm day. The breeze carried the crisp whispers of melancholy. She recognised all of it and sat in grim silence on a seat by the window.

She felt a nudge in her mind asking her to reconsider her decision. Was she going to keep her heart locked for the rest of her life? Was she going to be stone cold in the face of love? Was she willing to give up the last shreds of memories laden with him? Was she going to dance to the sweet music of melancholy? She turned her palms upward as if in a solemn prayer. She noticed that the veins were a prominent green and coursed through her palms like riverlets in the direction of her heart. She looked up at the sky, now a strange grey, and knew that the city was ushering in heavy rains. But only this time, without him.

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