in the places I wasn't meant to be

the darkest nights produce the brightest stars

The urge to reach out and stop him returns with new and terrible force; her hand twitches at her side, long claws rising out of nails, ready to bite into his shoulder and pin him where he falls. To force him to look at her, and at his mistakes, and to win, if only once--

Instead she stands still in the cold, watching him walk away until he vanishes into the snow. Until she is left with only ice and the endless white expanse and the gnawing, burning, constant question, Did I make the right choice?

{fin}