Monday, April 24, 2017

The Fallen City by Melissa La Fountain

Silence cascades over the room like thick syrup, slow and spreading. The insignificant mutter of quiet can easily become thunderously noiseless when it consumes a room in the way that it has tonight. It is dripping from the walls, a hue of blurry gray gathering into a puddle on the cold ground. What was once merely uncomfortable now feels lethal, the denseness of the air suffocating the throats of those who refuse to speak.
Whether it be stubbornness or uncertainty tying their tongues, it was demolishing the city they had built together. Gusts of the dangerous quiet knocked into the street lights, killing their gleam. The pressure of the air pushed the buildings to the ground. The silence flooded the city, breaking through its walls and seeping through the cracks that had begun to form in both of their lonely hearts.
The pain could be heard weeping through the trees outside of the decaying room. He couldn’t decide what made his soul throb the most—the silence or what led up to it.
***
“Aren’t you gonna get that?” he mumbled, furrowing his brows. Her phone had gone off five times in the past two minutes, all with the same ringtone that he had never heard before.
“Nope.” Her voiced cracked, and she tried to cover it up with a cough. But he’d noticed.
“Why not?”
“Because,” she explained, gripping his hand tighter, “it’s probably not that important or they would call me.” He slid his fingers out of hers, shifting his body to face her.
“Who are ‘they’?” he tilted his head to the side, conveying confusion. But he knew.
She shifted uncomfortably and cracked her knuckles; something he knew she only did when she was nervous. She refused to look into his eyes.
“Um...it’s...I…” Her breath started to shake, her words vibrating.
“Don’t lie to me.” Hurt leaked through his voice. He looked at her with pleading eyes, searching for a shred of hope that the worst wasn’t a reality.
“I’m...I’m so sorry…” she whispered, trying to reach for his hand again. He snatched it away.
“I love-”
“Don’t even say it,” he roared. “Just. Don’t.” And then he sealed his lips, looking down at the floor.

Twenty minutes had passed, and nothing had changed.
“Please talk to me.” She whimpered. He remained frozen, arms flexed and crossed tightly across his collapsing chest.
“At least look at me…” she whispered, salt water raindrops forming in her guilty eyes. He looked up at her with blue fire in his eyes but remained soundless. There was nothing left to say. His suspicions were true, and she was begging for forgiveness as if what she did could be forgotten.
But the city had fallen, and there was no going back.

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