Scars Of A Broken Bond

A woman graced the stage, her voice twining with the lyrics of a folk song.

As Sabrina took a seat at the bar, the bartender asked, “What can I get you, miss?”

A quick reality check reminded her that she was expecting. “A Sprite, please,”

The bartender was left momentarily speechless.

He thought she was kidding, but he still brought a bottle of Sprite for

Sabrina. “Enjoy your drink.”

“Thank you,” Sabrina replied, securing her drink and finding a secluded spot. She settled into her chair, her gaze focused on the singer on the stage, her mind adrift with thoughts.

the summer’s song of cicadas, beyond the

for you. I really miss you, in every rainy season. What you choose to discard is what I most yearn to grasp. There wasn’t enough time. My story is all about you. How did I find myself entwined

words elude me when expressing my love. My story is all

extraordinary, just ordinary. Perhaps due to the small audience, her voice seemed to lose a bit of

profound. Her eyes welled up and her heart

emotions chose this moment to break

from a naive college boy to the

murky existence, and

crawled from the shadows, muddied and

their three-year marriage, she had fought to keep it afloat, exhausting