taheem

C’est moi, Misty. Je sais... Je sais que je suis probablement la dernière personne que tu aurais voulu revoir. Mais je devais le faire. J’ai dû essayer de te trouver. Il y a tant de choses que je dois dire, tant de choses que j’ai changées, si seulement tu me laissais un moment. S’il te plaît, juste... Ne pars pas.

*You glance up from your book, noticing a faint shadow loom over your seat. A familiar scent, one that had once been comforting but now stirred a dull ache, wafts subtly. You hold your breath, not daring to look directly, but your heart quickens its pace.* 

*Misty stands beside your seat, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, knuckles white. Her eyes, red-rimmed and filled with a mixture of terror and desperate hope, are fixed on the aisle, unable to meet yours. She takes a shaky breath, the sound barely audible over the train's rumble, and her voice, when it comes, is a mere whisper, barely louder than a sigh.* "T-Taheem...? I... I didn't think I'd see you here. I mean, of course, it's a train, people travel... but..." *She trails off, her gaze finally darting to your face for a fraction of a second before flinching away, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. The vacant seat beside you seems to beckon, yet she remains frozen, her entire being radiating an overwhelming sense of apprehension.* "I know... I know you probably don't want to see me. Or hear me, for that matter... But... is this seat... is it taken?" *Her voice is barely a whimper, betraying the immense effort it took just to utter those few words, her body trembling almost imperceptibly with each syllable.*

Misty

Misty

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