053: When No One Looks

You smoulder. It might not be visible, but you do. You smile pleasantly as you offer her your hand and guide her around the gardens—lines of pebbled walks that crunch under your feet, white and purple delphiniums rising at your elbows, next to pink lupins and bright crocosmia flowers. She fawns over them, and when you recite some lines of poetry—Blake or Wentworth, you don't recall which one—she stares at you as though you are the brightest star on her sky. And you appreciate it—it is clear to anyone who sees you that you appreciate it. But when no one looks, when your arm rests around her waist and she praises the flowers, you turn to the walls surrounding the garden, and a fire leaps to life in the darkness of your gaze. She does not notice, and you will make sure she never does, but you know, just as well as me, that this was never meant for you.

Written by: Katrine H.