The girl stepped out of the carriage, with the help of a man’s hand. The air was humid, and it had been sprinkling on and off throughout the day. She brushed herself off and, making sure to avoid a pile of dirty leaves and a puddle, was gently escorted down the grey cobblestone path. They walked in silence. Step by step, almost in sync with one another, but just missing this equilibrium by a second or two. The man looked ahead, fearing that he would lose control if he even glanced at her shoes. The girl looked down, fearing that she would lose her self-respect if she stared ahead or lose her family if she walked back to the carriage.
The path led straight ahead to an old brick building that loomed above them. The rain began to fall, caressing the two as if trying to nudge them in the right direction. A strong wind came from behind them, ramming the delicate girl and pummeling her to the earth. The man caught her. He was strong, she could feel his arms firmly holding her but an inch above the ground. He pulled her up tenderly, afraid that she would break if he tried too hard.
They walked again, the man looking up, the girl looking down. The branches of a weeping willow on the side of the path swayed in the wind, reminding the girl of an old friend who might wave as they passed by. After only the briefest of moments, the two of them arrived at the door. It was made of dark oak, and it towered over them with a deliberate shadow. The man turned to look at the girl but stopped.
He lowered his eyes and spoke solemnly, “Is this what you really want to do?”
The girl slowly nodded. He didn’t see the tears coming to her eyes.
The man looked at her face, her beautiful face, for only a second. He stepped off the path and began the long walk back to the hill with the tree. The man knew that he could cry there, and no one would judge him.
The girl saw him walk away and did nothing. She wanted to scream. She wanted to go back to the carriage with him, his hand in hers, and run away.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, the girl sighed deeply and, with great sadness, opened the heavy door with all of her strength.
The path led straight ahead to an old brick building that loomed above them. The rain began to fall, caressing the two as if trying to nudge them in the right direction. A strong wind came from behind them, ramming the delicate girl and pummeling her to the earth. The man caught her. He was strong, she could feel his arms firmly holding her but an inch above the ground. He pulled her up tenderly, afraid that she would break if he tried too hard.
They walked again, the man looking up, the girl looking down. The branches of a weeping willow on the side of the path swayed in the wind, reminding the girl of an old friend who might wave as they passed by. After only the briefest of moments, the two of them arrived at the door. It was made of dark oak, and it towered over them with a deliberate shadow. The man turned to look at the girl but stopped.
He lowered his eyes and spoke solemnly, “Is this what you really want to do?”
The girl slowly nodded. He didn’t see the tears coming to her eyes.
The man looked at her face, her beautiful face, for only a second. He stepped off the path and began the long walk back to the hill with the tree. The man knew that he could cry there, and no one would judge him.
The girl saw him walk away and did nothing. She wanted to scream. She wanted to go back to the carriage with him, his hand in hers, and run away.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, the girl sighed deeply and, with great sadness, opened the heavy door with all of her strength.
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