Ripping away

December 14, 2013

I asked you to be honest with me, he said. I asked you to be true.

I was true, she said, but she understood why he thought she wasn’t. She talked in her sleep of things that had not happened but sounded so very, very real.

I love you, he said. I don’t know why you can’t adhere.

She wanted to stick to him, wanted so badly to do so. But she felt herself ripping away, one hand lifted, the other barely hanging on. Her dreams, they were so much more real than he was.

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