Not So Simple

The blue dusk embraced the quiet evening behind the window. She sat on the sill listening to the rustle of the tree branches whispering to each other.

“They understand each other,” she thought. “Not like us. I wish we were as simple as leaves.”

She pressed her cheek against the cold glass and closed her eyes. She still hoped he could forgive her and come back. She imagined him entering, shrugging his shoulders and making an awkward step towards her. “It’s ok,” he would say. “It was a misunderstanding. It was silly of me to overreact this way.”

“I’m sorry too,” she would say. “I should have never danced with him; then he would never have kissed me.”

She sighed. It was all not so simple as she didn’t really feel sorry. She enjoyed the kiss. But she wanted him to come back and sit next to her on the sill, and listen to the trees, and look at the dark, moonless sky, and be like a leaf that is trembling in the wind not asking any questions.

“Maybe not tonight,” she sighed again and got off the sill. She threw the last glance at the tree, “Maybe tomorrow.”


The Daily Post


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