I did not listen to your leaving as you left. I did not hear the floorboards creaking, the scrape of your fingernails on the wall down the hall, the click-click of them on the doorknob, the catch-cracking of the latch opening or the scream of the hinge of the door. No, I did not hear them at all. I stayed where I was in my chair with my thoughts and my drink and my stare but I did hear you stop. I heard your breath catch in your throat. I heard the hesitation in your step, your two desires pulling you apart, pulling you to pieces right there on the threshold, right there in the hall. I heard the split in you. All these things I heard as you stood there, the house ticking around you, the floor stretching away down the hall. I heard your cheek almost touch your shoulder, your chin almost touch your collar bone and then I heard your head whip back to front, the snap of the earth back into place. The slam of the door I did not hear, and again the silence as I sat. I was firm in the fabric of the seat of the chair. I was sewn there. My skin tore as I tried to rise. So I didn’t. So I let you. (The third piece in a series of unrelated pieces that are somehow, in my mind, related)
Songs of Fictive Moments: As you left
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