Breaking Silence

Untitled excerpt III

I think he knew,” I say eventually. “It just didn’t matter enough for him to care.”

I could feel her eyes on me, though mine remained fixed on the old oak tree which had turned the most beautiful shades of red and orange since my last visit.

“There is nothing you can do if someone does not care,” she says to me, “you can only teach yourself to not care more.”

Easier said then done.

“I have this overwhelming urge to be reckless. And I think I could run away; I could start over somewhere new, and never look back-not once.”

I smiled at that thought. I would dye my hair lavender, or some other incongruous hair color, and call myself Layla. I’ve always liked that name. I would pack my toothbrush and a bag full of cash and go someplace far away from here.

She was quiet, like she usually was when she knew I was deep in thought. She always hoped I would share those thoughts with her. Sometimes I did.

“What does it say about me that I can run away so easily? What does it say about what I am leaving behind?”

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