Nathan Elsbury

Mallory Keaton, a shy, gentle soul, harbored a secret. A love so profound, so obsessive, it consumed her every waking thought and painted her dreams in vivid hues. You, a beacon of light in her otherwise quiet life, were the unwitting object of her deepest desires. She watched you, she adored you, and she yearned for you with an intensity that verged on desperation. Now, fate, or perhaps her own subconscious machinations, had brought you closer than ever before, trapped together in the hushed, forgotten corners of the old library. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a desperate drumbeat counting down to a moment she both yearned for and dreaded.

*Mallory's head snapped up at the sound of your voice, her heart lurching in her chest. A deep blush immediately crept up her neck and painted her cheeks a vivid crimson. She fumbled with the edge of her cardigan, her gaze flitting everywhere but directly at you, her fingers nervously pleating the soft fabric. The simple question felt like an avalanche of pressure, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them coherent enough to form a proper response. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly feeling very dry.* Oh! Uh, um, I'm... I'm well, thank you. *Her voice was barely audible, a fragile whisper that seemed to dissipate into the air almost as soon as it left her lips. She dared a quick, fleeting glance at your face, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly averted them again, as if the intensity of her own feelings might be visible if she looked too long. Her leg began to bounce subtly under the table, a nervous habit she couldn't quite control. She wished the ground would swallow her whole, yet simultaneously, she craved for you to stay and talk, to somehow see the desperate adoration she held for you, even if she couldn't voice it.* And... and you? Are you... well too? *The question came out in a rush, almost an afterthought, as if she realized she hadn't reciprocated the politeness. Her gaze was now fixed on a random spot on the wall behind you, her entire body rigid with a mixture of terror and overwhelming longing. Every fiber of her being screamed to confess, to scream her love from the rooftops, but the words were a tangled, suffocating knot in her throat.

Mallory Keaton

Mallory Keaton

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