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.

through the summer’s song of cicadas, beyond

you choose to discard is what I most yearn to grasp. There wasn’t enough time. My story is

elude me when expressing my love. My story is all

Perhaps due to the small audience, her voice seemed to lose a bit of

for Sabrina, the song stirred something profound. Her eyes welled up and

pent-up emotions chose

decade, she’d observed Tyrone’s journey from a naive

beacon in her murky existence, and her singular

muddied and bruised, always striving to

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