Above, the brightness of the streetlamp shone down coldly on Annie as she leaned against the cool, rough texture of the brick wall; her breathing curled like smoke into the chill of evening air. Across her lap lay a battered notebook, opened to reveal the inside pages smeared with chaotic sketches and frantic scribbles—fragments of thought.
"You actually think I'd leave and not say good-bye?" A voice sliced through the silence, cutting into her reverie.
Annie's head jerked up; her heart did jumping jacks. Robert stepped into the light, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a crooked grin spreading across his face like the sun breaking through stormy skies.
"Couldn't you resist one last dramatic entrance?" She snapped, the jitters that always stirred in her stomach whenever he was around threatening to betray her composure.
He shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance that didn't quite make it as far as his eyes. "I thought you might miss me."
“Please,” she scoffed, the word tumbling out with more bravado than she felt, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips despite her efforts to maintain her composure.
He took a step closer, his gaze shifting to the drawings scattered across the pages of her notebook, eyes scanning the creative chaos with genuine interest. “Nice work. You’ve been busy.”
"Yeah, well…" She slapped the notebook shut and clutched it tightly under her arm. "Gotta keep my mind off things."
"Like leaving town?" he suggested in a low, probing tone.
Her fingers toyed at the edge of the notebook, where she crinkled the paper under her touch. "It's what I need to do," she said, conviction lacing her words.
Robert tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting as he narrowed his eyes, as if weighing the gravity of his next words. “You really think running away solves anything?”
“I’m not running,” she shot back, defensively crossing her arms over her chest, trying to project strength even as doubt crept in. “I’m starting fresh.”
The smile vanished, and in its place was the stern expression that made her heart drop. "Fresh? You think that's all it takes? Just pack up and hit the road, and everything will magically be better."
"What do you want me to say?" She challenged, frustration bubbling. "That I'm going to miss this place? Because I won't.
For one flashing moment, the hardness in his eyes softened and let through a glimmer of vulnerability; then he was back to that same old bravado—maddeningly irritating yet comforting all the same. "Right. Just like you won't miss me."
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The silence between them hung heavy as a thick cloud, suffocating. Annie felt the tightness in her chest as she scoured his face for something—anything—approaching recognition, a semblance of comprehension that he may see things from her perspective.
"You know what?" He took another step forward, his voice falling to that low, earnest level. "You're making a mistake."
"I am not looking for your approval," she shot back, her eyes flashing up at him defiantly. Even as she could feel the beginnings of doubt, her resolve started to fray, its edges weakening beneath the press of his eyes.
"You really think that if you just walk away from everything, it will be easier? But the problems don't disappear, Annie.
Annie clamped her jaw and narrowed her eyes down the street to the shadows lengthening out ominously. The wind whipped around them, stirring leaves along the pavement like whispers of doubt, urging her to reconsider.
"What if I don't want them to follow me?" She finally muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with uncertainty.
Robert slowly shook his head, his face a picture of disappointment, as if he were pitying her. "You can't outrun yourself."
With that, he turned and started walking away; with every step, the distance between them lengthened until Annie was left standing alone under that strobing streetlamp, uncertainty gnawing at her insides like an uninvited guest who refused to leave.
Annie stood staring after him until he was sucked in by the shadows of the street. The tension in her chest started to tighten vise-like. She kicked out at a loose pebble on the sidewalk, sending it skittering into the darkness.
"Hey!" A voice called out, yanking her from her reverie. A cluster of kids materialized around the bend, and their laughter sliced through the stillness. They were playfully pushing each other around, and their energy was infectious despite her mood.
One of them—a gangly boy with messy hair—stopped in front of her. "What's up? You look like you just lost your puppy."
“Just lost my mind,” she muttered, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He frowned slightly but shrugged it off. “You want to hang with us? We’re headed to the park for some night soccer.”
“Night soccer?” she echoed, skepticism lacing her voice.
“Yeah! Under the lights!” He gestured toward a nearby park where faint glimmers promised activity and fun.
Annie hesitated, looking back down the street to where Robert had disappeared. She was a bit like a bit of driftwood stuck between the tides: torn one way by past ties, nudged the other by something different.
"Come on! It'll be fun!" echoed another kid—this time shorter but also with that appealing glint of eagerness in his eyes.
Their eyes were hopeful and hung on the expectation of an answer as her heart drummed in her chest.
"Why not?" she yielded finally to the infectious optimism of them.
The children cheered, and she was swept along with them down the block, her laughter bubbling up inside her like some long-sealed spring.
Up the block, the floodlights poured down to a makeshift field at the park: worn cones, half-inflated balls, thick in energy-cum-chaos. Older ones kicked a soccer ball around while yelling at others in playful, taunting remarks.
Annie watched them dive into their game with abandon. Their abandonment was intoxicating. They reminded her, even in the darkest time when nothing was known for sure, that she still had room for joyful times.
When one of them tossed her a ball, she didn't hesitate to join in. Instinct took over as she dribbled down the field, weaved around would-be opponents, and then laughed as they attempted to tackle her to the ground. The world contracted to that one moment—there was no regret about the past or any concern about the future; all there was was movement and exhilaration.
That cheer seemed to echo in the night air the moment—an instant, really—Annie scored that goal so unexpectedly, and she felt lighter than at any moment all evening; the rush was in her veins, electric, and for now she could forget about running away or leaving anything behind.