Spiralling.That is all I seem to be able to do. I come undone like the stitches I have just sewn, the threadbare sanity pushing me to do this, something I would never have done on my own accord.I stand there, the loose fabric already falling to the floor, because he is here, and I shouldn't open the door. I can't.He stares at me, eyes darker than the night, darker than they say his soul is supposed to be. A smooth set jaw, a stony expression, and a wristwatch that could buy my whole shop.I press my eyes closed, maybe if I can't see him he can't shatter everything. Everything I have ever worked for.But there is no use in ignoring the imminent threat, the words that will stab through my heart, so much that even I could not stitch it back together. He appears impatient and for a moment, I delude myself into thinking that he is agitated, that he for once is not the epitome of calm and collected."Heron," his deep voice calls out, a sharp tug at my heart which is ready to shatter.
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