She had just read that morning, a quote by einstein that read- if you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough yourself. In a moment like that, all she could remember was this. She went to wash her face, to cool herself down with the running water.
Instead, she looked in the mirror. her own eyes bloodshot, hair rakish. "I know it simply enough." she could explain it to herself, others she wasn't sure. She had never seen him, met him, never heard his voice, never heard of him from any of his friends but she knew him well enough. She loved him. Was that what pain was? what she went through? Splashing water through the face just to make way for a fresh batch of hot tears. She had talked to him of every minute about her life. She felt him, secured him so deeply in her heart taht nobody could ever take place of him, she knew he wasn't handsome. She never cared. Not rich, she wasn't bothered. She had been camouflaging her usual chirpy self in front of everyone, she know beheld her soul naked in front of her eyes.
She didn't like what she saw. Smeared kohl, quivering lips, runny nose. yes, she was a writer and yet words didn't come easily to her. Love never came naturally to her but when she did, it hit her with full force. She craved for a man she no longer knew, for he was changed. what caused him to drive away, she knew not. Fear of her love or infidelity. She seeked shelter. she seeked peace. In death. In blood. With a sardonic smile, no ifs no buts, she held her wrist, got it cut and she quit.