Rain On Windows
She was curled in a chair, her head resting against the rain-splattered window. Her hair was loose, falling forward around her face, her fingers absently tangled through the ends. An open book lay forgotten in her lap, something heavy and difficult and probably in another language.
Harry stood in the doorway watching her. There was something sad about her, something about the way the grey light filtered through the windows, casting shadows across her face. He wanted to comfort her, to put his arms around her, to tell her that everything would be just fine.
It would be a lie, of course.
"Ruth."
She didn't move, didn't even turn to look at him. "We're falling apart, Harry."
His heart skipped for a moment. "I know."
"It was inevitable, really." Her fingers move faster, twisting the strands of her hair around and around. "I mean, these work relationships never really work out, do they?"
He leant back against a bookshelf. "It's all we have, Ruth."
Her hand fell still and her head dropped forward. "Isn't that just sad, Harry? Isn't it sad that we're grasping for something that will never work, because we have nothing else."
He says nothing, because she's right, and words never help anyway.
He stands and watches her as the rain keeps tumbling down the window. He wishes things could be different.
He wishes it could all work out.