tell me Atlas what is heavier?
the world or its peoples hearts?
the world or its peoples hearts?
The rainwater clings to his curls, but the lukewarm nature of their pathways does not seem to register as he lingers on the outskirts of her gravity. Reluctant to intrude upon that which he had once respected when she lived. Blue eyes soften at her wispy words, far away and unaffected. His hand twitches impotently at his side with the desire to reach, to pull.
“We were friends. The length of time we had doesn’t change that.” Perhaps his own surety will fill the space where her own should be. Void and cold. Forgotten. Her doubt will not make him waver in the memories of her that sustain him.
Her answer should perhaps not be so unexpected, and yet Harper flinches slightly all the same. The Voice. Of course. Gideon’s words ring in his head like a haunting death knell. “Oh,” he utters softly, dumbly. The patter of rain against leaves and rotted logs is a chorus of what-ifs and another-life’s. It doesn’t stop him from moving closer into her space. “You don’t seem happy, Maea.” Why?
“We were friends. The length of time we had doesn’t change that.” Perhaps his own surety will fill the space where her own should be. Void and cold. Forgotten. Her doubt will not make him waver in the memories of her that sustain him.
Her answer should perhaps not be so unexpected, and yet Harper flinches slightly all the same. The Voice. Of course. Gideon’s words ring in his head like a haunting death knell. “Oh,” he utters softly, dumbly. The patter of rain against leaves and rotted logs is a chorus of what-ifs and another-life’s. It doesn’t stop him from moving closer into her space. “You don’t seem happy, Maea.” Why?
Harper
