"Are we not gonna talk about it?"
The couple had been sitting in silence for nearly 20 minutes before his voice drifted across the table. Twenty minutes plus the agonizing ten minutes they spent in silence during the ride over. A horrible silence, nothing like the peaceful kind they were used to. The good kind of silence that followed when he would hold her, when he would stroke her hair until she fell asleep. No, this was the worst kind of silence. The kind when there's an issue so hurtful at hand that no one is brave enough or wise enough to approach it.
She squirmed under his gaze... still unable to look at him. Instead, she focused her attention on the bowl of noodles in front of her. The thick noodles swam around in a dark broth, speckled by herbs and spices. What sounded like Korean music was playing softly in the background. It seemed so out of place, considering they were seated in Japanese restaurant. She dismissed it, figuring the owners were depending on the ignorance of their customers.
The same way he had tried to play on her ignorance.
He leaned in and asked the question again.
"Come on, babe. At least look at me. Talk to me, say anything."
He reached across the table suddenly, resting his hand on hers. She adverted her gaze to the sleeve of his sweater. He had the nerve to touch her so familiarly? More than anything, she wanted to feel the way she did a week before. A week before today, and this simple touch would have sent her hormones in overdrive. However, today... her skin went rigid and a bitter taste formed in the back of her throat. Her mind raced with images of him holding another girl's hand in the same way.
The image of his hand over hers quickly began to blur as puddle sized tears welled up in her eyes. In one motion she slid away from the table, grabbing her sweater.
"I don't want to talk about it"
The couple had been sitting in silence for nearly 20 minutes before his voice drifted across the table. Twenty minutes plus the agonizing ten minutes they spent in silence during the ride over. A horrible silence, nothing like the peaceful kind they were used to. The good kind of silence that followed when he would hold her, when he would stroke her hair until she fell asleep. No, this was the worst kind of silence. The kind when there's an issue so hurtful at hand that no one is brave enough or wise enough to approach it.
She squirmed under his gaze... still unable to look at him. Instead, she focused her attention on the bowl of noodles in front of her. The thick noodles swam around in a dark broth, speckled by herbs and spices. What sounded like Korean music was playing softly in the background. It seemed so out of place, considering they were seated in Japanese restaurant. She dismissed it, figuring the owners were depending on the ignorance of their customers.
The same way he had tried to play on her ignorance.
He leaned in and asked the question again.
"Come on, babe. At least look at me. Talk to me, say anything."
He reached across the table suddenly, resting his hand on hers. She adverted her gaze to the sleeve of his sweater. He had the nerve to touch her so familiarly? More than anything, she wanted to feel the way she did a week before. A week before today, and this simple touch would have sent her hormones in overdrive. However, today... her skin went rigid and a bitter taste formed in the back of her throat. Her mind raced with images of him holding another girl's hand in the same way.
The image of his hand over hers quickly began to blur as puddle sized tears welled up in her eyes. In one motion she slid away from the table, grabbing her sweater.
"I don't want to talk about it"
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