The Final Straw

“…He hid his eyes underneath a cap that casted a shadow on his face, but I could see the outlines of his lips slouch, then curled up into a scowl. He began to sweat more and more, and despite the veins perforating the linings of his arms and legs, he grew weaker and weaker by the moment. Eventually guilt, anger, frustration, something made him turn away. He trudged on; his fingers paled as he tightened his grip on the racket. He looked as though he had put his whole body into a perplexed expression in an attempt to extinguish the whisper deep inside of him that had almost convinced him to wander over to me. In the swift moment that the whisper simmered, I thought there were strings attached to his feet, for all of a sudden, the blankness of his mind caused him to detach from all things physical and uncertainty lingered in his unguided movements. But he then burned away the whispers and tore all ties. The narrowed eyes, tensed arms, and wry glare returned. He continued down the path he chose to take and never looked back. Somewhere, a faint mutter of “Love!” filled the air.”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s