She was leaving. He watched her shadowy form creeping through his room. The sheets next to him still warm from where she had been moments before.
He didn't know when she would be back. He never knew. Sometimes weeks, sometimes years. Something always drawing her away from him, something disruptive in her soul.
She always returned.
Each time a new scar. He would run his fingers over the lines peppering this beloved body and their eyes would silently meet.
"Stay."
"I can't."
He knew the day would come when he'd hear news, and know that she would never return again.
***
Thanks to VibishaLakshman for this prompt.
Uh.. it's Cassarian but I don't think that is clear.
Anyways, send me a prompt or a challenge to do in 100 words. ☺️ It's a brain warm up for me!
