:: The Door Slammed ::
After all the quarrels and heartaches, all that was left was silence.
As he stood, at the kitchen floor, sweeping up the broken pieces of angry words.
There is really nothing left to say. There is no more vocabulary.
There is no sound, except the shiver of a lonely silhouette
Against the wide expanse of the... nothing.
Nothingness.
He poured the letters and alphabets into the dustbin and closed the lid.
He laid the broom against the wall, and leaned.
Leaned, as if that was the only support he would ever had.
Leaned, on the whitewashed kitchen wall.
For a while, anyway.
There was no sound. And then there was. A faint dribble.
And as the saltwater touched the ground.
There was a cry, but no one heard it.
And time went on its way; the world continued to spin.
And then, there was nothing left of silence.
(fiction please, no real drama took place, best read with Damian Rice's DELICATE streaming in the background.)
