Wait. Watch. Run.
Location
Watch.
Wait.
Run.
I Watch him walk and wait for his return. Watch him run and wait to feel something. Anger?
Lots of it.
Sadness?
Not enough.
Resentment?
It boils in my blood.
So I wait.
I wait for her to stop twisting the knife.
I wait for her to stop making something from nothing.
I wait for him to feel something.
Anything.
Anything at all just so I know I haven't been forgotten.