She looked down at her lap, then at me, then back at lap until her eyes met the shades of the nearby window, quiet in dark contemplation and at a loss for words. Tears ran down her wonderful face, and her eyes became red as pain worsened in her stomach and especially within her heart. When our eyes first met, there was an instant connection that was begging to be worked upon; now when they meet, it was merely time counting down until departure. Little did I know that this would be the last time I would see her ever again. I didn't kiss her, I didn't hold her close, and I never got a chance to utter those legendary three words. Before I could say anything else, she jolted from the bed and gathered her things in a swift fashion, aware that my presence was like a plague, and she didn't dare come closer. At that moment, I needed to hold her close, but she just walked away. I sat there for a good five minutes, realizing that I am a monster. I'll drink to that.
I named her Disappointed, because she was.
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