Fragile. That’s how he’d describe her. Apparently there’d been an arson incident when she was younger but he didn’t ask about that. Sometimes it frightened him. The dark moods. The blank expression.
He wanted to help so badly, but felt weak. Ineffective.
His phone beeped as he eased his train to a halt at the last station. He read the message: I know you’re leaving me.
He sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his aching eyes. Peering through the bug-smeared windscreen he took in the skyline. A charcoal plume bled onto the evening pink.
No!
He ran.
