“I have feelings for you, Lucinda...”

“Des…”

It was silent, Lucinda was unsure of how to proceed. Her friend stared at her with insecure hope. Eyes wide and gleaming, yet fearful of what’s to leave Lucinda’s mouth.

“I don’t… I don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry.”

The atmosphere was rough; it was hard to breath despite the gentle, cold wind brushing past them.

Tears leaked down Desdemona’s face, dripping to the ground almost rhythmically while her shaky hands tried desperately to remove them like they were the plague. Desdemona shivered slightly at the excessive coldness from tears and air mixing, her now balled up hands rubbing harshly at her eyes to rid herself of the feeling.

Lucinda was stiff as a board, her hand wanting to reach out and comfort, yet her legs wanting to run away; her eyes darting between her friend and the ground as the sound of sniffles filled the air. Opening her mouth, she tried to comfort.

“Des, look–“

“No! It’s fine; I… I should’ve expected much,” her voice faded slightly, trembling and fragile; one stroke of wind would crush it had it been a construction, “this is awkward now…” the girl turned shakily, nearly tripping over her feet, and trudged away, rubbing at her eyes while Lucinda watched her best friend of years get gradually smaller in the distance.

She stared unmoving. All sound caught in her throat like a hand was wrapped dangerously around it. She didn’t feel guilty about rejecting the confession, no. She felt guilty about the hurt she inflicted upon her friend, but her chances to make things right was gone with the wind. Whisked away the moment her throat clogged and the words died with the spirits of the past.