The dry field and the crop blew in the quiet breeze that crept around her lovingly. She searched until she spied him, he was always in the same spot, she didn’t even know why she looked anymore. His coat, moth-eaten and worn, and his hat, ripped and repaired far to many times, hung on him like a mannequin. He didn’t seem to mind. He never seemed to mind. His smile, same as always, wasn’t as comforting as it had been that very first day. That empty, now meaningless smile, made her heart break. She made her way through the maze of weeds and gold tinted crop over to him. He was colder than usual. She stood on her tippy-toes and removed him from his hinges, releasing him to the ground, a jumbled heap of straw and cloth. She cuddled in next to him, desperate for the comfort he used to provide. She would leave him soon, and he would let her. She could feel him rotting beneath her touch. Around them, the crows gathered, but still, he sat motionless, uncaring and unaware. Her warmth radiated into him.
Could he tell I was going to leave, or did he know all along? ‘her thoughts were so obvious, she might as well have said it.
“I promise I’ll never leave you.” her lie hurt and she polished it like a band-aid on a bullet wound.
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