As she said good morning to that new lonely day, habitually rubbing her eyes with her hands, as usual, her hands were wet with tears.
*Aaaah… *
Her thoughts weren't much more expressive than her external appearance.
After all, now, Delilah was accustomed to that kind of start of the day.
Her past actions brought her here, and, as the adult she was, it was only fair to accept the consequences.
*Tonight was even more intense, though… *
She wasn't usually capable of remembering her dreams, but the previous night was different.
All over again, living the sweet pain of her first love and final betrayal.
*This time, though, I picked the short end of the stick… how ironic! *
Even though she didn't remember her dreams, even when awake, the image of his blood falling on her trembling hands, and the final quizzical look he gave her as his body softened lifeless on the ground, gave her pain every hour of the day.
