4.04 AM. 21st June 2017. Feral Hearts.
It was the longest night of the year—the winter solstice.
He smiled bitterly at the woman before him. The park lamp illuminated both of their figures, almost eclipsed by the relentless snowfall.
She, in return, exhaled inaudibly in turmoil.
"I don't have a chance, do I?" despite the freezing night, he ever bravely spoke.
She, who were always good at making other people question her motives with her jovial demeanor, chose silence as her response.
"I'll never have a chance, right?" his tone was hoarse—and the cold weather did little to help.
Again, she stood still, lulling their modestly indignant dispositions by the calm atmosphere, and his heart was very much frantic rather than peaceful, though the matter was left none to care of.
She was beautiful that night. Just like she had been for the last three years. The dim lighting above their heads did none other than accentuate her alluring elegance.
"I'm sorry," came her quick answer.
He borderline fervently turned, leaving the empty park. A smiling warmth of a goodbye was undoubtedly redundant. A modest farce.
Ultimately, his resolve became unyielding.
A resolve to part their ways.