Crossing Lines

Over the years, Derek had often heard a lot of people say that they had lost track of time. To him, the statement had never rang true. How could anyone lose track of something that was always there, punctuated by each heartbeat that their body gave? 

For him, paying attention to time came as easy breathing, a habit borne from years of doing nothing at night, but watching as the minutes ticked by, giving way to hours until the numbers finally signaled the start of a new day.

But now he finally understood what they meant.

He did not know how long he stood there watching the rain. When he finally did move, it was with the slowness of an old machine coming back to life. Gears grinding against one another as they came back to life. It was only after blinking several times that he finally realized that he was still holding her resignation letter. 

He blinked down at the piece of paper, struggling to process it. 

Resignation. She had quit.