She tried to open the bottle, but the top slipped through her fingers without moving. He took the bottle from her hand and opened it with his thumb and index finger. There was nothing special in the gesture and yet she found it strangely fascinating like a small heroic feat performed specially for her.

In the end it happens, in some way you couldn't imagine before.

She was tired, with that tiredness that only emptiness brings.

She found herself thinking of how it would feel to be safely trapped in his arms, with no more possibility to choose.

The scene was set. All that was required was an action, a cold start, instant and brutal as beginnings always are.

The love of those we don't love in return settles on the surface and from there quickly evaporates.

[Their love] had burned itself out, like a forgotten candle in an empty room, leaving behind a ravenous discontent.