The wind came in through the window and made a whistling sound as it shot through the glass.It was one of the coldest nights on record, and below you could see the last few cars on the road attempting to get through the knee-high slush. It might have been four in the morning but all the electricity had gone out and that included her phone and the wall clock.

That was the beginning of it really. There was nothing to distract, nothing to take away from the inherent emptiness that was forming like a giant chasm between them. It was there in the bed, in the living room. It was there when they fucked or when they watched tv together after work.

It was just this nothingness, this absolute hole that just sucked everything into it every ounce of light. But I guess on a night like this, where there wasn’t any light anyway the thing got hungry, and they simply couldn’t feed it anymore.

The beginning of the end is nothing remarkable for most people. It’s not like love dies in this weird and painful way rather it exits quietly, making itself known as the door is shut and leaving you to realise what you have been missing.

I’m so angry.

Give me that pressure that feeling any feeling anything other than this numbness this stifling numbness and this brain fog I just cant seem to shake that is evading me from doing absolutely anything important. What happened? We were so happy, it seemed like five minutes ago.

What happened?

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A Short Conversation is a collection of stories, thoughts, and general musing. I like to write like I'm slamming a door; loudly, and with purpose.

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