Our Crimes Have A Reason

She quickly sat up, separating herself from him. She closed her eyes hard and then opened them again, shaking her head.
"Where'd you go?"
"No where. I'm right here. I didn't go anywhere."
"Come back."
Silence.
It is pitch black. The only light in the room is spilling in through a single split in the blinds. It's an orange colored illumination from the street light outside. Only able to see the silhouettes of everything around her she hops off of the bed & fumbles for her shoes. She slips them on, then grabs her keys off of the floor. She stands in the dark and desperately tries to find something to say. Defeated, she sits on the floor. Quiet for a moment.
"You don't feel bad? You don't feel bad at all?"
"I don't feel bad about anything."
Silence.
"You shouldn't feel bad. I'm the one who should feel bad."
"Why?"
"Isn't the answer obvious? What do you mean 'why'?"
Silence.
He's laying on the bed above her and she can't see him. She gets up to leave and then sits down again. She's staring down at the floor, but looks up when she hears his feet hit the ground. He walks out onto the balcony, 3 stories above the ground, and sits down. She turns her head back towards the ground and starts to play with the carpet. Within a minute or two she can smell the smoke from his cigarette. It's drifting in through the sliding glass door that he's left wide open. Now that the bed is vacant she walks over and lays half on it, facing away from him, her feet still on the floor.
"Come out here"
"No."
"Come out here, right now"
"No."
He starts to make small talk. She's listening intently but not responding. She hears him stand up, walk inside, and close the door.
"This is going to be bright."
He flips on the side table light. She buries her face in the comforter.
"It's not that bad."
She's listening to every noise he makes, afraid to look up. Finally she stands up and faces away from him. Afraid of what she'll feel if she looks at him. He walks up behind her and pulls her hands around to her back, putting them inside of his. He rests his head on the back of her neck.
"It's going to be OK"
She turns around and starts for the door. As she reaches to open it he's at her side.
"Hey"
He motions for a hug and she gently, barely hugs him from the side. Never looking up at him. She walks out into the hall.
"Bye"
Silence.
Her pace quickens when she begins to realize the magnitude of the crime she committed.

Again, it's pitch black. Walking through the grass to her car she can only see what is directly in front of her. She twists the key, unlocking the door and climbs inside. The drive home seems to take hours, hitting every red light. Trapped in her car she let her thoughts overtake her. She turns up the radio and rolls down the window in an attempt to think of anything else. Anything but him. Once she's home she crawls into bed fully dressed. She sighs a heavy sigh, and tries to find something else to think about-content as long as he doesn't enter her thoughts. Just before sleep she notices a bright light and opens her eyes abruptly. Her cell phone is flashing "1 text message received". It's from him.
"I think I'm falling in love with you."

(to be continued)