The Monologue

*Written in poetic fashion. The darkest, saddest truth of love is that it is not fair. Not even to the kindest of us. It feeds from what you are willing to give, and it dissolves despite. I’ve had my share of trysts. Disappointments. All different in some way, yet similar due to their great capacity for failure. And still, my heart remains to linger on the sharp sting of your singular rejection. I am no stranger to it. But only you have evoked a pain so potent. So I

It was storming. On the corner of a vacant street, a young girl stood in a black coat. Her hair was as a hood, soaked flat onto her head. Behind her, a diner with large darkened windows towered as if watching over her shoulder. She thought it was a perfect day for rain. Earlier that morning, she had made the long drive two cities over to collect her mother’s things from a rehab hospital, before returning to work her midday shift. Her mother had passed away. She didn't know