Something short I wrote a while back. Criticism is very welcome - I know you're all very eager to knock me down a peg, so have at it.
---
“You killed a man, didn’t you? The man on the news.”
“Yes.”
They stood in an alley. It was dark, and it was snowing, as it often did in winter. There was a long silence that seemed to hang in the air. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, rather, it was respect for something dead.
“I see,” she croaked. It was all she could manage. They stared at each other for a long while. She didn’t try and look for any sign of love there, in his eyes. She would be a fool not to know it wasn’t there.
“I could kill you if I wanted to,” he said. “You know that, right?”
She nodded. He shifted nervously from foot to foot. Neither spoke for a good minute.
A voice from over his shoulder called out that they were leaving, but he did not turn away from the petite girl in front of him. A cold wind curled around their forms, and she shivered pitifully. She glanced at the knife he gripped tightly in his left hand, and for a moment imagined what it would feel like for that knife to slide between her ribs, cold steel invading the temple of her breast. She imagined it would fill the hole she knew he’d leave.
“When will you be back?” She barely recognized her own voice, and beneath his deep growl, her cheeks burned red. He was silent. Feeling foolish, she turned her attention to the snow beneath her feet, soggy in it’s appearance, and murk brown.
“Look at me,” she heard, and his voice wielded the ferocity of a slap across the face. But she couldn’t. She expected him to bark at her again. But he didn’t. That made her scared.
“You don’t love me anymore,” she whispered. “Do you?”
She heard feet crunching on snow, and a car doors slamming shut. The air grew colder.
She might’ve chased after him, were she younger. But she knew it was over - she'd known for a long time, she'd merely been reluctant to recognize it. No, instead, she hugged her jacket around her, and began to walk.
---
“You killed a man, didn’t you? The man on the news.”
“Yes.”
They stood in an alley. It was dark, and it was snowing, as it often did in winter. There was a long silence that seemed to hang in the air. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, rather, it was respect for something dead.
“I see,” she croaked. It was all she could manage. They stared at each other for a long while. She didn’t try and look for any sign of love there, in his eyes. She would be a fool not to know it wasn’t there.
“I could kill you if I wanted to,” he said. “You know that, right?”
She nodded. He shifted nervously from foot to foot. Neither spoke for a good minute.
A voice from over his shoulder called out that they were leaving, but he did not turn away from the petite girl in front of him. A cold wind curled around their forms, and she shivered pitifully. She glanced at the knife he gripped tightly in his left hand, and for a moment imagined what it would feel like for that knife to slide between her ribs, cold steel invading the temple of her breast. She imagined it would fill the hole she knew he’d leave.
“When will you be back?” She barely recognized her own voice, and beneath his deep growl, her cheeks burned red. He was silent. Feeling foolish, she turned her attention to the snow beneath her feet, soggy in it’s appearance, and murk brown.
“Look at me,” she heard, and his voice wielded the ferocity of a slap across the face. But she couldn’t. She expected him to bark at her again. But he didn’t. That made her scared.
“You don’t love me anymore,” she whispered. “Do you?”
She heard feet crunching on snow, and a car doors slamming shut. The air grew colder.
She might’ve chased after him, were she younger. But she knew it was over - she'd known for a long time, she'd merely been reluctant to recognize it. No, instead, she hugged her jacket around her, and began to walk.