Like Rain on Warm Pavement

Silence, cold and harsh, like a slap to the face. The only other sound audible in the tiny car is the faint tinkle of the tiny disks on her earrings, as she turns her head. She sits there behind the wheel. Stone-faced, unmoving, unfeeling, staring straight ahead.
The sweet lavender-scented air between them is now suffocating, as his mind tries to find semblance among the words unsaid. He smiles. Almost smiles, as a single tear traces down his freckled cheek at a sluggish, morose pace. Many moons ago, he discovered that silences were companionable and suddenly the grey skies of winter didn’t look so drab.
Now, whatever is left between them is reduced to that single tear, still marking its path down the curve of his stubbled jaw, shallow breathing and his heart crashing open, with a deafening stillness. The kind that you are left with, after rain on warm pavement.


artwork by Silvia Pelissero (source: Pinterest)


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