A Drabble

It's 4:30AM on New Year's Day and I'm still a little tipsy off of vodka shots and good conversation.  But the cold woke me up and your words keep me warm and I don't know what to say anymore.  That awkward moment when it's a new year and I'm the same old me.  I'm still drunk.  I'm in love with you.  It's the holidays and the memories and I probably shouldn't tell you that right now.  There are others, have been and will be, and I'll try.  But you're you and I can't ignore that any longer.  Break my heart; it means you care.

A Long, Lonely Time

Still trying to decide if this should be expanded to include some of the other little glimpses into a doomed relationship, or if there's enough here to let it stand on its own.  Read and debate for yourself, then fill me in. 

The title is also tentative; it's a line from the song "Unchained Melody" :]

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A Long, Lonely Time

When they separate in 1966, she won’t be able to cry.  She won’t allow her self-pity to swallow her whole, nor will she allow the open stares of her friends and neighbors to anger or shame her.  She won’t look at their baby boy, the one she’d brought into the world just three months before the inevitable end of their relationship.  She won’t think back on the good times, the romance, the months and months and months of bliss that should have really warned her of the incomparable heartache to come.

Geneva Wren will only be able to think of the rain.