We'll Do It All Again, Part IV { 1

[27yrsandwelldoitallagain]

Better with you
Better with you
Better with you
This hell feels better with you

~


This day is like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Her horseback riding lessons happening in the mornings, and the days are whiled away with no books, no entertainment, no employment, no distraction. The same as every single day for the last two months. It's a listless existence with no purpose.

There is, Audrey supposes, one single upside, while she spins the ring on her finger (the one she can't quite ever fully adjust to having on it; can't forget is there), and it's that the hands in the mirrors and windows are gone. In the end they hadn't been worth any real terror or concern. A benign trick of light and image that no one could explain or effect, but could not actually affect them or even force them to look at.

She almost misses it, strange as it was. At least it was something happening.
Something to cut through the absolute unchanging nature of this place.

Another day draws towards a close, and it's normal at this point: how exhausting monotony can be, how relieving going to sleep and putting away one more endless, unchanging day. It's easy to slip, silently and smoothly away, almost as soon as her cheek touches the pillow. Habit more than hope. Another box that is checked at the end of all the few boxes to check each day in this place.

Everything that is until the world rolls slowly and softly into vibrant colors.

The sharp, deep green of trees. And a grey impending sky all around. The sudden sound of two voices speaking, that collapsed with a turning confusion, into a woman with blonde hair and a man in a plaid shirt packing themselves into a car, while she rocked on the balls of her feet. Hands in her own pockets.

A feeling of. Guilt. Weight. Inevitability. Hope. Doubt. Acceptance. Uncertainty. Ownership.
It's a press of heavy stones, pulled from the salted sea air she smells on every breath.

But as if there were no words left to say.

(Had there been words said?
Had they all spoken, and she'd just now forgotten?)

Her hands in her pockets as the car starts, and they drive away. Without a word to her either, and Audrey turned, adrift, looking to her side, where she suddenly saw Nathan. Beside a large old, but almost stunningly, blue truck. Writing something onto a notepad. As though he didn't know she was there.

No. No. That was normal. Right. The writing.
He was doing his job, like he alway had.

A bubble of relief whispered out through her, as though she was mist and fog more than bones and skin, only for it to be eaten in that impending grey sky. Except it wasn't in the sky. It was inside of her. Inside of her stomach. Inside of her chest. Inside of looking at him. Inside of his name, his face, his posture, his actions, in her head, in her vision.

All those same feelings swelled. Some heavier. Some deeper. Some more ... electric.
Even with the sharpening weight of every step as she turned and walked toward him.