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Rated: E · Chapter · Writing.Com · #2131955
A fictional short
Lost Love

Lisa sat in her opulent, Victorian themed bedroom, with its cream and rose colored walls, rich cherry hard wood floors, and sparse furnishings. A moderate sized bed sat in the middle of the room, taking up most of the space. It had burgundy bedding on it, with one lone pillow that had lost its case awhile ago. Along the second wall was a worn and used dresser that was the color of a penny, (un-shined bronze). She sat on her dusty floor, rocking back and forth, rhythmically to the tune of the grandfather clock, which sat in the corner. It seemed as though time had stood still, or maybe it was going by so fast, that she hardly had a moment to waste, yet she continued to sit. The memories kept flooding her mind, making her emotionally distant. The vacant expression on her face was like looking into a black hole with no end.
She stare's out the window at the black, bleak, inky night, into an unknown far off space that leads to nowhere and nothing, and this is all that she can seem to do. She wonder's, what had gone wrong, why had this happened. She had thought they were happy, that things were great, and then out of nowhere, her world had stopped. She doesn't feel the tears falling like rain drops, making puddles around her, as the ravenous, gnawing, raw pain goes through her, to her very soul.



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