Trust

Trust

－ Passion & Noah－

The night before held the sounds of anger and doubt; raised voices and hot tears, slamming doors and the shattering of trust.

The next morning cradled the fear of uncertainty; a heavy silence and bated breath.

Passion sat at the kitchen table. The already too-small room seemed to shrink around her, closing in until it felt difficult to breathe. Noah swept into the room, taking up even more space. The thought of having to share the air that already wasn’t plentiful almost sent her over the edge, though the day before… before last night… she would have given it all to him even if it meant she’d cease to breathe.

If only he had been honest, if only he had not lied about where he would be, she’d know where they were going now.

Now… they just might not be going at all.

Noah slammed the refrigerator door harder than he meant to. Then he gingerly placed the frying pan on the eye of the stove, as if to atone for his previous actions. He felt like a giant, too big for the space he was in, too large to move around without breaking something more. But then again, he felt too small to own up to what he’d done, too small to come back from where he’d gone. Because it wasn’t so much the ‘where,’ as it was the lie that he’d told.

The temperature rose to an almost unbearable degree. The kettle went off, and they both jumped in shock at the sudden whistling that almost seemed to call to them. A reminder that things had reached a boiling point.

The sound was shrill, reverberating in the too small space that held too many large emotions. An uncomfortable break to the silence that lay thick upon them.

Passion looked up; she’d been staring at the patterns in the wooden table her grandfather had carved so many years ago. The kettle had been going off for far longer than it should have. Their eyes met, and she wanted more than anything for him to stop the noise, to stop disrupting the peace that they’d tried to create. And she’d thought that they were working… and then he broke her trust.

And finally he removed the kettle, cutting off the offensive noise, though it could not undo what had already been broken. Oh, how he wished that he could turn back time and undo the damage that he’d done.

If this moment stayed with you, I’d love for you to stay awhile. New Notes from Elsewhere arrive every other week.

Until next time…

－ Sylina