Author's Note: My brain is extremely uncooperative when it comes to sleeping. And when it comes to getting work done on my other projects, rather than writing random drabbles.
The righteous anger smoldered and then ignited in her eyes, and she pulled away and started storming down the hall, thunder in her steps, lightning forming spitting rings around her, rain clouding her face. She began to blend into the shadows like the last wisp of a lingering dream, and he knew that he would lose everything if that dream departed for good this time.
Thus it was that he swallowed them—swallowed his pride, his dignity, his misgivings and his misconceptions, his doubt and his anger and his whole sucking swamp of resentment. They went down like nettles, clawing at his throat.
"Wait," he said. "Please."
She half-turned, and he thought he saw something like admiration in her eyes.
Perhaps she understood.
But half was not enough, and she turned away again, and she disappeared into the dark cast by the flickering candles on the walls.
Perhaps she didn't.