Prompts (farewell, pocketful, feeding, thief, maroon) courtesy of Cake.shortandsweet‘s Wednesday Write-In.
Weasel had a pocketful of things to say as he stood on the platform, inches away from Rabbit. But he felt like a thief had picked the lock on his heart and stole all the words he wanted to say, those had never said, but should have.
“I’ll be back to visit in a few weeks,” Rabbit said, chewing her lip. She gave him a tepid smile, hoping it would convey all the thoughts, hopes, and well-wishes, but not the small sunrise of freedom she now felt.
Weasel stared at the maroon indentation in her bottom lip. His insecurity looped around, coiled like a serpent feeding on its own tail. Growing fat on fear and loss and the gut-punch feeling of being left behind.
The train whistled and the conductor yelled, and they both smiled because they thought that only happened in movies. Rabbit kissed his cheek and ran up the metal stairs. Weasel turned and watched the train pull out of the station. Watched her pull away from him. The train gave another whistle, low and long as it slowly picked up speed. It snaked around a slow curve and then it was gone.
“Farewell,” he said, and meant it, but it was much too late.