Loglet [Alison] Thoughts early in the morning...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Narrative, early morning. Alison wakes up to something she's known was going to happen sooner or later.

It was in the rustling of fabric drawn back, shushing over her skin slightly in the process had become a regular event in the past weeks. It was he sound of the footfalls pacing back and forth across the room resonated had resonated through her with regularity, the fall of each step too heavily upon the floor despite the care being taken to muffle them was also part of the routine. And it was in the rasp of paper sheets being taken out and laid flat on a desk, the scribbling of a pen upon them also was a now familiar sound.

But for the first time, the crumpling of paper and the low sigh didn't follow. Instead, the writing was concluded and the pen set down carefully. And this time, the footsteps neared the bed and paused for a moment, the brush of a fingertip running down her cheek lightly in a silent goodbye followed by a slow walk towards the door.

His footsteps had been heavier of late, as though he were being dragged down by unseen demons. She'd noticed and listened, to all the things said and unsaid, and remembered words spoken and memories half-shared in hesitant, stumbling words.

As the door closed, Alison opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her breathing, one hand resting on the bed against the slowly cooling sheets, until only her own body warmed the bed. She didn't read the note to know what it read.

And she would keep her unspoken promise to herself and to him.

Two days. He would have two days. And on the third, she would go as well.