Emotional Insecurity

Kim took a seat on the comfortable furniture close to the bookshelves. Her eyes glided from the seamless dark wood of his desk which was in contrast with the hardwood floors.

As her eyes caressed the books, then they moved back to his desk were files were scattered, in an order she presumed. Seeing as he easily found whatever he searched for.

The sound of flipping pages and his fingers dancing across the keyboard was rhythmic. She found him rather pleasant to watch as he busied himself. Kim felt reluctant to leave the peaceful basement.

Her thoughts drifted back to the main reason she returned home. "Carl, don't you think we've drifted apart?"

"..."

'Where did that come from?" He pondered.

Then a wry smile flashed across his face, "I guess this past one month did more harm than good."

"I don't think we have, I mean, I haven't. I still think of you. But it isn't the same for you, right?" He questioned.