~ 9. There is this place. You are not here. And the silver leaves wilt in mourning ~
He loses her.
It's there that he sits, staring out over that purple sky and its matching lake, lost in memories of her. Memories of her golden hair and her wide, awed eyes. Of her beaming smile and her sorrowful tears. Of the light in his life that was her, and her giggle that echoes in his mind.
He remembers the way she'd danced in the rain at the bottom of the hill. And the way they'd made love in the moonlight under this very tree. And the way he'd held her close and let her set up a home in his hearts.
He wishes he could relive those moments all over again, not just in his memory but in real life, with her here, with her in the same universe again, the same world. He wishes that his hopes for the future, the plans he had secretly made here, had come true.
And he breathes shakily, his hands clutching the grass either side of him, trying to calm himself down, trying not to let the anger rise. He comes here because it's tranquil and soothing, because the scent of her lingers in this spot in which they'd cuddled together so many times. He comes here because everything reminds him of her, and who he was when he was with her, and who he is now because he is not.
He comes here and he thinks and thinks and thinks. Trying to figure out how to get her home. How to bring her back without destroying everything.
But if you were to listen close, you would not hear the cogs turning in his mind, or his breathing, or the echo of a song in the air.
The only sound is the rustle of the leaves.