Terms of Agreement

Her hands are cold. Numb, as she sits before the screen once more. Her mind is full, the page blank. How to put into words what she has to say? Words destroy, words create. Another headache. Eyes that can't see. Ears that can't hear. She wants him to know, needs him to understand. It's not her choice to make, though she gladly would. He has to do it. To be the one to answer. It hangs over them, heavy and cold. One page to explain a lifetime. One page in which to explain. To explain it all. To explain nothing. Nothing. A contradiction to herself. The contradiction of who he is, and who he chooses to be. Cold hands, cold fingers. They aren't numb, they're painfully aware. Words roam around her, hovering hesitantly in the air. She ignores them. It's too important. Or is it? Maybe it's just a waste of time. Another letter that won't be read. Another note that will never find it's way to his hands. It's not supposed to. It's too simple. And he is not simple. The cold spreads, like icy tendrils wrapped mercilessly around her lungs. Can't breathe. Can't speak. Can't think. It's never good enough. Or maybe it's too good. Perhaps his eyes too have been shut. His mind. His ears. His heart. Perhaps the ice has taken over there as well. Words destroy, words create.