The Answer

Mood: Pensive...intrinsic pandemonium lulls to a stop.

I'm perfectly fine at the moment. I've not been crying. It's been a fabulous day but I cannot shrug off what is at the back of my mind.

Are you struggling, like me, to let it go? Do you think, just for a moment, that things could have been very different had it been earlier? Are there bombarding questions but you're at a loss for words? Are you waiting, like me, for someone to pry it out in the open?

Too long.
Too short.
Too late.

We're both suffering. In silence. In solitude.
Why? What is it exactly that you and I are waiting for? Is languishing silence our bridge of communication? Capacious words merely patch the void between. Should patience, a virtue oft heralded, persist at this juncture?
Why do we indulge in shrouded pretence? A word, a whisper, an answer to concur.

Tell me your story and I'll read you mine.
The answer lies between the lines.