Walk Away
By Ani

POV: Third Person POV
Summary: She waits for him.

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She stares at the walls around her wondering why they're there, when she yearns so much to be outside. She stares at all the memories of them on the wall and convinces herself that she wants to be here.

She waits.

She waits hoping he'll come just like he said he would. She thinks of them as she waits for his arrival, because he said he would come. She hopes very much that he will.

She thinks about his distinct smell, one she couldn't quite get her finger on, one that seems to be reserved only to be smelt on remembers how that bed in the corner smells of him, a smell that she falls asleep with at night.

She thinks about him, and how he makes her feel. She remembers the feeling of safety and of love, and especially of feeling free even

within the warm clutches of his arms.

She thought over her first real words long ago to him and hopes they both remember the warmth and longing in them.

She waits.

She remembers their conversations, their initial common interests and their mutual friend. She looks down sadly, remembering that she shouldn't think of that.

She stares at the clock on the wall, which counts down. She thinks 'almost time'.

She waits.

She's never known him to be late, and she doesn't waver in her resounding belief that he will be on time, even now. She closes her eyes, because that's what she's always done, feeling his arrival was always more for her. She would be wound up in his arms, her eyelids opened by his warm kisses. She always loved their 'hellos'.

She waits a few more minutes hoping she hasn't read the time wrong. She grows anxious and nervous and opens her eyes to see if she has the time right. She sees that the clock has continued on, slowly counting down, minutes over what she had previously read.

She hopes that its not her heart that she feels clenching tight within her. She decides to wait, for isn't there always a first time for something?

She waits.

She watches the clock as it silently counts down. She clutches her sides tight, wound up by the waiting, wound up by fear.

She thinks 'no more' and stands from the chair. She hoped to make things right, to make them the same as before. She hoped wrong, she thinks bitterly to herself.

She remembers now the reason she asked for this 'meeting', the lonely times that dwindled between over the last few years. She misses being his friend, of their conversation of their common interests, of their time together, of ... them.

She feels a pain in her eyes, wanting to close them, feeling them bleed out pain. She instead picks up her belongings, and walks slowly towards their door. She feels a small tug, wanting strongly to stay. She sighs softly, reasoning to herself to go.

She waited, in vain.

She touched the doorknob, clutching her heart and walked out, leaving the spare key behind. She wouldn't need it anymore. She walked out of the building, still holding on. She stares at the white around her, like the white in that place.

She called it immaculate white once, and he laughed at her. She remembers asking him why he laughed and remembers his answer less. She remembers him holding her face as he kissed her lips, drinking her in.

She shivers, and starts. She should get out of here, she thinks to herself, trying to clear her head of the memory.

She waited. She would wait no more, she consoles herself, as she walks away.