"What have you expected?", your lips were torn apart by the taste of tears, your cheeks were puffed and red.
"That it would hurt less."
My backpack weighed a ton of hurtful things and memories while your smile was a gravity I couldn't deny. We were standing at this old train station, one of my hands formed a fist, in the other hand I hold on to an one-way non-refundable ticket back to the past and all its funny times.
You nearly touched my face, but then you just waved in an absolutely unsure and absolute gesture - your gaze a loaded gun pointed at me.
This was the moment.
[A Do-or-die-decision. A dead man's switch in your hand, our hearts the hostages of this fatal crime.]
B o o m.
'Never', I thought, 'Never am I going to forget this sound. I'm going to rewind this scene so often, till it's tattooed in to my efferent nerve fabrics, till I had to skin me with my own teeth to get rid of this memory.'
The sound of a bullet, which damaged my vascular system, missed my heart and brought me down to tears.
You waited one second too long to deliver this final blow.
While I struggled to get in to the train, grasping on to the hole in my body, you walked away, like it was your plan all along.
[Nowadays I figured out, that it was indeed .. your plan all along.]