Prose – Runaway

Some mornings I wake up and I want to run away. I stare at the curtains, at the pallid floral pattern and long to escape. The early light paints the room grey, the pipes creak, the cars drive by and by and by.
I want to run away and leave everyone behind. Even you. Even though I love you. Maybe I could take you with me. But then there’s everybody else. Your family, my family, all of our friends. They can’t all come. There’s not enough room in my imaginary backpack.
I turn over and stare at your face, half hidden behind the waves of the duvet. You lie unaware of my thoughts. I wait, watching you sleep and slowly, slowly, the feeling fades. In fact I recoil from it. The thought of leaving makes me cold, scared, thumps my stomach with fear. I move closer to your warmth. I won’t go. But those curtains will have to.

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