this close

Adelaide walked up to the front step of Deirdre's house. Her car wasn't there, so she presumed she was not at home. In her icy hands, she carried the sacred piece of Deirdre's heart in the form of a key. She enclosed it in an envelope and placed it at the door, hoping she'd find it. Wind and rain whipped around Adelaide, but she felt none of it. Only acknowledged that it was. This was not the first time she had missed Deirdre. Busy lives kept them from fellowship and Adelaide was very alone otherwise. Isolation and heartbreak will do that to a person. She was tired of not being understood or comforted by the ones upon whom her love rest. She was simply a rusty machine. Like the tin man after years and years of weathered change. She taped a note to the door, knowing she'd be the first to see. I'm tired of chasing you. Come to me when you are able. Adelaide. She hated being so cold, but she was. She was cold. She was rusted. She was tired. Tired of having to work for love all the time. So she lie dormant. She'd lost her Love and swore it would be the last. The last until some lucky man decided to show her they were not all the same. She looked at herself in the window's reflection very puzzled. That cannot be me..She touched her own face, hair and body trying to make sense of it. After a moment, turned away in disgust and frustration and cut around through the backyard to the side of the old house to the tree swing. She sat upon it and began flying back and forth, singing softly as she did. Her heart sunk and mixed in with the mess of her internal organs. It hurt. It hurt to be so isolated. And here was as close as she could get without being with Deirdre. The distance hurt her much more than she could stand to say in just one sitting. But she'd rather not say anyway.