a story. part 11.

the next morning, she found him in the kitchen with his head in his hand. he smelled like coffee and tirelessness. her heart ached at the thought of him staying up all night to try to figure out a way to escape.
she said, "good morning." she always said hello in the morning. but he didn't respond.
he just sunk deeper inside his cave of a head.

she went out for some air and a walk. it was a sunny day and she needed to soak something up. she listened to all of her favorite songs as she went along. she noticed a tree, a bird, an earthworm. she took deep breaths to calm herself. she said, "everything is going to be okay" out loud. because she needed to hear it even if she had to say it to herself.

she started to try to imagine what it would be like to be alone. after all, she felt alone already. he no longer asked her how she was. he didn't want to know where she was going. "maybe i just need to be alone," she wondered while looking at a sparrow.

"maybe i will paint you, sparrow. and you will be my symbol of freedom."

the sparrow flew away.

"no, that didn't feel right to me either," she said.

she wondered if it would make a difference if he knew she was dying. she wondered if she should tell him she wondered that.