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Uncomfortable Communication

When the things not said become more important

By Alexa A.Published 4 years ago Updated 3 years ago 2 min read
Uncomfortable Communication
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

He hadn't paid attention to any of the signs leading up to this moment. He had been too busy, too careless, too blinded by the everything going on that definitely didn't matter.

He just hadn't noticed that she didn't sit quite as close to him when they were on the couch watching late night movies. He didn't realize that her quick kisses and hurried fucking weren't from passion. He never would have thought that the promotion she got didn't come with all the late nights she said it did.

He had spent all his time memorizing the way her voice sounded, but he didn't know that she had stopped talking. Assuming she was tired, he never complained when they ate take out more and more instead of spending time in the kitchen together. He didn't purposefully slow his questions, or focus on her answers getting shorter - that is, before both stopped all together.

He never would have guessed that, in his comfort, he was losing her moment by moment. That while he was starting to feel settled, she was feeling like she was settling.

With the perfect vision of the hindsight glasses, he can see them all now. The signs come sliding through like a slow burn in his mind. One after another. He could count them off on his fingers, but would need more than two hands. But he couldn't see them then.

Did she even know that she was giving them?

Was each an intentional non-conversation?

A purposeful hint that she assumed he would get? Or thought he was willfully ignoring?

He wasn't. He could reason every one of them away. Those small things that didn't signify major changes. He thought.

Why wouldn't she say, if she wanted to stay? Maybe that was the glaring sign that he was missing. It was practically screaming at him, lit up in neon like the ones outside of the cheapest bars on the strip, taking up his newly expanded closet space. It was written as a lie on the paper the became further crumpled in his hand with each moment that passed by.

I can't stay.

No. All the signs were there. She could. She didn't want to stay.

breakups

About the Creator

Alexa A.

Started my journey in the PNW, stops in Chicago, Melbourne, and now Cleveland. I work with the public, and in my free time I hide from the public. Still spend more time reading than writing, which I hope that you do too. Happy exploring!

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