the beginning of the end

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The frost was already forming as we left our warm home, heading for an equally warm evening in our local pub. I love autumn, I loved him, the fleece hat I’d given him last christmas pulled over his ears and his hands deep in the pockets of an oversized down jacket that hid his slight frame. I smiled and smoothly slipped my gloved hand through the crook of his elbow


Don’t what?

Touch me

I don’t understand

I don’t like being touched

There was a long silence as we walked along the icy pathway and the implications of his words painfully began to blossom

Is this a new thing or have you always felt like this?

I’ve always felt like this

With these few words he deliberately, irrevocably destroyed an illusion he’d previously carefully constructed.  Now he’d knowingly set us on different pathways. He was colder than the evening, colder than the ice. In my pain I lashed out with a warm, tearful broken whisper

you did a good job of faking it for 4 years

the beginning of the end
rate wendys scribble

2 bits of lovely banter on “the beginning of the end”

  1. Happy Frog and I writes:

    I love the writing in this post. So many implications and so much pain following one gesture and one one word. Thank you for sharing this.



  2. Madame Defarge writes:

    The pain behind this is very moving. It’s moments like these that make for very sad memories.



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