musicbella19
She'd always heard about those "epiphanies" that people were having - sudden understanding or revelations. And she was envious of it, because she felt like she never, ever got there. It's not like she was dumb (right?), she just felt like she was...hopeless. Nothing ever seemed to strike her as original, and it was starting to wear on her.
She wasn't sure if she could call him that anymore - I mean, why isn't there a label when there's a separation? Divorces get ex-husband. Standard gets husband. So what is there now: sepera-husband? It seemed unfair.
Which is pretty much what life felt like as a separated couple. No halves, but no wholes, either.
He was asking her for the world, essentially. To give up everything she'd ever known, all her comfort, all the things in the world that she loved - to move across the world with him? It was a sacrifice she didn't know if her heart was strong enough to make. What would her life be like, alone and in a country she knew no one and nothing? It all seemed too much to bear.
The riots were going on all around her - outside the building, inside her office, it all felt like it was inside her head, too. She couldn't get away from the yelling, the throwing, the constant chaos that haunted her life. She knew it wasn't supposed to be this way, and that somewhere, someone had gone wrong: but how would she ever find a way out now? Was there even a way? Should she even try to get out from underneath her desk?
She couldn't move.
Maybe couldn't was the wrong word. She wouldn't move.
Nothing was what she thought. How could she have been so stupid to trust him?! Look where it had gotten her: ducked under a desk, trying desperately to learn how to breathe soundlessly and keep still while her heart pumped faster than it ever had - all while he stood, talking to the principal. If he ever found out what she was doing there...she was done.
She was worried about how they would perceive her piece. She wanted so badly to be an artist - but isn't that what all artists frown on? The idea of wanting it took away from the actuality of it.
But she knew her piece was good. She could feel the artistry in every note, every pause, every second that the music flowed from her fingertips. Those 88 keys were her world, and they reflected it.
She knew it had something to do with Christmas, but she wasn't quite sure what. So her parents didn't raise her within a religious setting, so what?! It's not like he had to bit her head off for it!
"You don't know what part a shepherd played in our Lord and life?!" he exclaimed.
"So what?!" she bit back. "Why do I even have to believe in this 'Lord' you say??"