Fragments

That was it. She had to leave now, whilst she had the strength, the clarity.

He was distracted, far removed from here, already entwinned within the whorls of the next vortex.

“I need to speak with you”. No response, the void between them spreading, from this place, this time, from her.

“Now!” The power of her new certainty, drew him back for the briefest second, just long enough for her to reach him.

They moved away from the others, from the chaos of this latest unfolding drama. Of the great rush to move onto the next place, the next time.

Now that she had his attention, words failed her. They had fled, leaving only emptiness.

“I am leaving,” she said simply, at last.

She could sense his excitement, his longing for the next challenge that was waiting for him, sucking him as a magnet to a piece of metal, clinching him.

He looked back at the others, then to her. Those eyes that once pierced her soul, grazed her body.

“I have to go,” he said. “I have to help her.” Images of a woman wielding fire, laughing, flashed through his head.

She said nothing, stood there. Surrounded, engulfed by the barreness between moments.

He had choices, he knew that.

Without looking at him, without touching him, she turned away.

Keep going, she screamed wordlessly to herself. Do not stop, she begged.

That’s it, she coaxed her body, one foot dragging the other.

As the thread that had joined them, stretched thinner and thinner with each of her steps, he called to her.

The fragments of her being shattered, dissolving to the ground. She turned.

He was standing there. He had not walked away, he who was always the first to turn.

“You are wrong,” he quietly said across the threadbare air that was now between them.

“I will not forget you, not now, not ever.”

Then he turned, walked away from what was left.

Fuck you, she silently screamed, fuck you.

For he had done it, stolen all away. Her power of intention, strength of purpose gone. The one thing remaining to her, he had taken. She was the one who decided, finally, to leave, to take what was left of her self away from him. But, in that last stroke of himself, it was he who had turned his back on her.

Staring at the broken shards of her self on the ground, she realised that she could give him that. She had found the courage within herself, to commence her journey, to reclaim her self.

Fuck you, she softly, fuck you.