Weit weit weg

Sometimes pain is disguised as a polite request: “Go before it's too late.” It sounds almost caring, but underneath it lies that very rift where guilt, fear, and remnants of tenderness are mixed together. There is no drama on display here, just two people who have long since become wounds to each other. One is poison in someone else's glass, the other is still drinking, knowing how it will end. The world is burning to the ground, but the habit of holding hands turns out to be stronger than the instinct for self-preservation. And somewhere between the salty taste of tears and the cold of summer, honesty remains: you can't save them, but you can let them go.