It rose. She held his hand and it felt like grass. It was grass between her fingers; but for all she cared at that moment, it was his brown hair.
She had always promised to watch it with him. To let the gold clothe their bodies slowly as they sat together, her tousling his hair. She leaned her back against the cold, flat stone behind her back and stretched her legs.
She smiled. She was happy for the first time in her life. She had fulfilled her duty to him, her last promise. Her head told her she should feel sad, ashamed; but, she couldn't deny it. She was finally happy. She felt free and got up and ran. Because she could now. Her life was her own, not shared and she just couldn't bring herself to feel sad any more.

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russellch95 (joined over 7 years ago)

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Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0

genres

fiction

tags

Death death individualism

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