She sat afar from him, and all that could be heard from him from that distance was nothing. His body was pulsing to her, and all that could be said to her from that distance was nothing. Nothing, not even a whisper, and so all that pierced through that empty room was nothing but the hum of the wind as it froze those tears that splattered on his sockets
. \His hands were numb from the breeze, and he thought,The Only Thing That Should Be Nothing Is That Distance, and not his hands, not his feet, not his voice and no, oh no, not those tears that flow from his breasts to the glimpse of her awkward laughs, to the liltle gulps she took as she swallowed his liltle jokes, to the blush of her cheeks that she radiates as she smiled and smiled to his eyes that saw nothing now but the swing of her hair admist the rain that drenched his lids.
He sat there and all he saw was those lips that she bit when she was tried hiding a giggle from him, those brows that she knit when she tried unconvincingly to brush off his teases and those cheeks that stretched a smirk out of thos lips and those brows when she tried and tried to cover her weeps. He sat there and all he saw was that face that was attached to those lips and cheeks and brows and his breast as she turned back to give him a gentle smile.
He sat there stretching his lips, giving off a sham of a smirk as he replied to her and that face that crashes into him again and again and again He sat on that sturdy plastic chair, his arms folded to shield against the slithers of the gush that had carressed her neck and her eyes and her cheeks and her brows and the moments that have been before him, and all that could be was that distance that was nothing.