02-19-2021, 07:28 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; width: 310px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]He did not belong.
Expected and thus performed rejection, accepted the hand he was dealt, allowed the world to continue as though the new day may bring some modicum of peace. Disappointment all he knew, faux joy painted in place, a play put on until it all may fall into place. Wrong this approach, known this, yet old habits die hard, harsh their cling as though their unruly demise may permit a few moments more.
Different this time, though the manner of such words could not adequately describe. He had grown tired. Too well he knew it, marrow ached with a weariness he might not shift, too long his solitude, horizons expanded yet never filled. Maybe such his cause, the want to settle ignited for the possibilities were numerous, brightened the days ahead in manner he had lacked. Or, maybe, it was for her.
Matched they, supposedly secured their status as the last, the frigid chill and iron there even as prolonged their time away from the mountain that had acted their beginning. Thoughts swirled in quickening eddies, perplexing the entanglement, too grand that he felt and thought where she was concerned. She's getting married. Nonchalant the words that expressed such notion, ease behind the reveal, not a surprise but more an expectation, awaited only the right day.
Strands broke, thought scattered as voices arose, light seeping between the floorboards. Begun anew the routine of the tavern, those that manned bar and kitchen alike preparing for the work ahead of them. He knew, soon enough, patrons would arrive seeking company or sustenance, in the case of some both. Breath caught and held, pondered the possibility one among them a face he wished to see. Or did he, truly it was a conundrum he thought little on. Much left unsaid, needed to be spoken to clear the air.
Dismissed the notion, time enough left for such, the quiet voice that whispered he was nothing but a coward shut away. Among those early risers was Harland as the stairs were descended, from them splitting off, chill the air as he skirted new arrivals upon his departure. Dark still, the sky split along the horizon by gentle strokes of orange and peach, time the only factor that would dispel the night. Still bright each star that settled on that ebony expanse, sorrow in eyes that moved in familiar patterns, lines drawn between.
Time enough was there for himself, a moment for all to fade, his worries grown trivial beneath such, discarded his plans as winding path drew him to the beach. Yet, when he perched atop those cool grains, the sea captured his attention, restless the choppy waves. He knew he could not be a coward any longer, would need to seek her out, for now this moment was his.
Expected and thus performed rejection, accepted the hand he was dealt, allowed the world to continue as though the new day may bring some modicum of peace. Disappointment all he knew, faux joy painted in place, a play put on until it all may fall into place. Wrong this approach, known this, yet old habits die hard, harsh their cling as though their unruly demise may permit a few moments more.
Different this time, though the manner of such words could not adequately describe. He had grown tired. Too well he knew it, marrow ached with a weariness he might not shift, too long his solitude, horizons expanded yet never filled. Maybe such his cause, the want to settle ignited for the possibilities were numerous, brightened the days ahead in manner he had lacked. Or, maybe, it was for her.
Matched they, supposedly secured their status as the last, the frigid chill and iron there even as prolonged their time away from the mountain that had acted their beginning. Thoughts swirled in quickening eddies, perplexing the entanglement, too grand that he felt and thought where she was concerned. She's getting married. Nonchalant the words that expressed such notion, ease behind the reveal, not a surprise but more an expectation, awaited only the right day.
Strands broke, thought scattered as voices arose, light seeping between the floorboards. Begun anew the routine of the tavern, those that manned bar and kitchen alike preparing for the work ahead of them. He knew, soon enough, patrons would arrive seeking company or sustenance, in the case of some both. Breath caught and held, pondered the possibility one among them a face he wished to see. Or did he, truly it was a conundrum he thought little on. Much left unsaid, needed to be spoken to clear the air.
Dismissed the notion, time enough left for such, the quiet voice that whispered he was nothing but a coward shut away. Among those early risers was Harland as the stairs were descended, from them splitting off, chill the air as he skirted new arrivals upon his departure. Dark still, the sky split along the horizon by gentle strokes of orange and peach, time the only factor that would dispel the night. Still bright each star that settled on that ebony expanse, sorrow in eyes that moved in familiar patterns, lines drawn between.
Time enough was there for himself, a moment for all to fade, his worries grown trivial beneath such, discarded his plans as winding path drew him to the beach. Yet, when he perched atop those cool grains, the sea captured his attention, restless the choppy waves. He knew he could not be a coward any longer, would need to seek her out, for now this moment was his.