One last call. A timid beep. An agonizing wind. And some sympathetic wind rustling. Who knew heartbreaks could be so poetic? The pain numbing the December frost, the hazy view overshadowing the midday sun overhead, the traffic ebbing away into a distance out of sight, blarring horns like a queen's parade running late. But all that echoed in my mind were your words. "We're over. I won't say it's me. I won't say it's totally you. It's us. Together. Like we promised that day." That day... when you said "We're in this together." Unheard stories carry a secret. Something which only two souls who once wished the red threads to withstand the eternal storm hurled in its way know. A story exclusive to those people, who lived a thousands days in it's pages. A story sacred to its us, sacred to the hard leather binding of time.
