The Culmination

Maybe she had just had enough. Enough of the cups of tea at three in the morning, enough of the steam that rises from your mouth as you walk beside her on cold days, enough of the hellos, goodbyes, pleases and thankyous. Maybe she knew, all this time what it is like to die, and even in something so unknown, she found there was too much of what she already knew. 
The late nights alone, the silent mornings, the dandelion that she'll make a wish on, without really believing it will come to pass. The feeling that she was most afraid of; the nausea, the fear that everything she did was false, that she was a fraud, and didn't deserve any of this.

Maybe it was the nausea that became too much, maybe she had just forgotten to breathe.
There was always new reasons for forgetting to breathe. The look in men's eyes when they found what they were looking for, the thought that everything was too much, yet was still not enough. The backs of strangers that looked strangely familiar, the sight of someone crying at a book. The key of silence. Sometimes A flat, sometimes D minor. At good times, the times of peace; the silence around her sat at a solid G, but most days it drifted more towards E minor. 
Maybe it was all the minor chords in the world, the endless melancholic hum of sad people drifting through life. Maybe it was the lack of laughter, the intensity of the tiny things. 
Maybe it was just time, claiming her back for his own purposes. 
They told her things would get better with time. But Time is selfish and claims all, so he continued to pursue her, leaving all else fixed and unchanged, leaving nothing better and none the worse.

Time. Like the ticking of our own hearts, each beat bringing us closer to something else. Eachother, maybe. But the closer you got to her, the further you found you grew apart. Apart from your skin, your soul, your heart. Apart from everything you gave to her, that she now carried with her as she drifted away, lost in the current of everything that was lost and never found. The single socks, rings and house keys, the minds of the foolish, the sanity of the wise. Away to the place where all things lost are found.
The place she yearned for.