Willow Pillow
Three Thousand Club
Molly Moore just ended a four year relationship.
I don't think I can do this anymore.
When he asked what that meant....
I think we should just be friends.
Four years. Never did she think those words would come out of her mouth, but they had. And now here she was...saying them right out of her mouth. And the worst part? There was a sense of relief that it was finally over as soon as it was said. If someone asked her a few months ago if that would ever come out of her mouth? The very idea of it was crippling back then. There are thoughts that clench the inside of your throat where you struggle to breathe...and once upon a time...that was one of those thoughts. It's funny how time changes things. Maybe the worst part of all of it was that he agreed. The look of defeat and resignation that hung on his face said it all.
There would be no fighting to save the relationship. No grand gesture of Ryan Locke asking her to stay....he was done, too. It left her wondering, were they both tired or had she been the one putting all the effort from the start? She was too numb to explore the feelings of it. Just...that it was the new reality. She was about to change her job, move across the pond and change everything but...
I think we should just be friends
Escaped her mouth instead. Deep down in her heart, she knew there was no going back from there. So with a heavy heart, she kept her head held up high and boarded the plane. The tears were reserved for the flight and the composure was kept in tack when she stepped off the plane. The dream was dead. It was time to return to her studio flat in the heart of Boston, take off her shoes as she walked in the door, her void of a cat to find her as soon as she entered and just...cry it out...maybe for a week.
The bowl of icecream was prepped, Netflix was turned on. She pushed play on her answering machine and -
"Ms. Moore, this is Officer Bowling from the county of Bellarose. I'm calling to inform you that there was a major car accident that resulted in the death of Patrick and Susan Moore....
Everything else was white noise. The message went on for some time, but all Molly could do was look at her screaming cat sitting on the couch demanding to be loved after a month of neglect...
"Guess we're driving to Illinois, Bubba."
I don't think I can do this anymore.
When he asked what that meant....
I think we should just be friends.
Four years. Never did she think those words would come out of her mouth, but they had. And now here she was...saying them right out of her mouth. And the worst part? There was a sense of relief that it was finally over as soon as it was said. If someone asked her a few months ago if that would ever come out of her mouth? The very idea of it was crippling back then. There are thoughts that clench the inside of your throat where you struggle to breathe...and once upon a time...that was one of those thoughts. It's funny how time changes things. Maybe the worst part of all of it was that he agreed. The look of defeat and resignation that hung on his face said it all.
There would be no fighting to save the relationship. No grand gesture of Ryan Locke asking her to stay....he was done, too. It left her wondering, were they both tired or had she been the one putting all the effort from the start? She was too numb to explore the feelings of it. Just...that it was the new reality. She was about to change her job, move across the pond and change everything but...
I think we should just be friends
Escaped her mouth instead. Deep down in her heart, she knew there was no going back from there. So with a heavy heart, she kept her head held up high and boarded the plane. The tears were reserved for the flight and the composure was kept in tack when she stepped off the plane. The dream was dead. It was time to return to her studio flat in the heart of Boston, take off her shoes as she walked in the door, her void of a cat to find her as soon as she entered and just...cry it out...maybe for a week.
The bowl of icecream was prepped, Netflix was turned on. She pushed play on her answering machine and -
"Ms. Moore, this is Officer Bowling from the county of Bellarose. I'm calling to inform you that there was a major car accident that resulted in the death of Patrick and Susan Moore....
Everything else was white noise. The message went on for some time, but all Molly could do was look at her screaming cat sitting on the couch demanding to be loved after a month of neglect...
"Guess we're driving to Illinois, Bubba."