​Inktober: Faster

The subway was necessarily faster. On some days, like today, I craved the oblivion of its darkened tunnels. I sought out the distinctive lulling hum that trains make as they hurtle through the city’s underbelly, needing its calm and resolution to carry me through.

I didn’t want the time to think, to talk myself out of it. I might have taken the bus for such an errand as this, but every jolt and traffic light would have been an intolerable delay. I had no forgiveness left. Too much was already lost to compromise and broken promises.

Today I was a servant of my own impulsivity. Latent though it had been for ten years, today it screamed.

Now, it said. Don’t wait.

In many ways our relationship was already over. There was no love between us and what respect there had been had died with the first affair.

We were meant to simply have time apart, time to think and consider. He wanted forgiveness, the fickle illusion of normalcy that I had tried to apply over our broken marriage. But I could not give even that.

I had awoken with this absolute certainty coursing through my veins. My morning was a desperate longing for action, with clarity as sharp as a razor’s edge, and every station brought me closer to release.

I smiled thinking of it.

Almost time.

Author’s Note: I haven’t been writing enough fiction lately. So I’m trying out a thing where I follow a writing prompt for every day of October.


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