The Writers' Circle

Her face.  Every time he closed his eyes it was there.  Every thought seemed to find some way of bringing her with it.  She was filling him, and all he wanted to do was talk to her.  This would all stop if he could talk to her.  Then he could sleep, then he could work.  But he knew that it was impossible.  
	She was at home.  As he looked out over the ocean he wanted her to see it with him. To see the moon as it hung just above the water, turning the surface into stained glass.  To see the waves rise and shimmer green, then gold in the lunar light, to hear the whisper of the surf on the soft ivory sand, to see the . just to see.  
	There had been a fight.  There were always fights fights it seemed.  They were just too far away, for too long.  She had hung up, and now, that it was too late, now he had the right things to say.  Yes if he could just say this one thing everything would be fine... it had to be.  He loved her.  She loved him once.
Now the harder he tried, the worse it got.
	"There's someone else."
	Those words sat in his soul and burned.  They moved and clawed at him.   They were acid.  Yet she said them.  She was so casual, is if she didn't know what she was saying.  She didn't know she was killing him.  He didn't care!  He wanted her and she wanted him!  She loved him! Didn't she?  She did. he was sure of that.  Now she wanted to leave.  What had he done?  Why? 
	He just wanted to know why.
	He took of his shoes carefully.  How could she hurt him like this?  He listened to the soft crunch of the dry grass under his feet as he walked down towards the water.  The water was still beautiful, it still wanted him, it always had.
	It wasn't even the same ocean.  She was in the east.  The sky was the same though.  The same stars anyway, the moon was too low in the west for her to see it.  She was out with HIM, under the same stars, and he was alone.  He looked up at the night, his toes eating into the sand, and wished he knew the constellations.  It was never important before.  He took them for granted.  He took a lot for granted.
	He remembered when they first met, at the club.  He had been going there for years, so had she, but he had never seen her before.

	At first all he saw was her eyes.  Like pools of clear water that gave her face a peaceful quiet look.  Even from across the room and through all the smoke he could see they were brown.  They were looking at him.  Her mouth told a different story.  While the eyes spoke of calm, her smile was anything but.  The ends of her pageboy hair cut rested against its upturned corners.  Her raven hair framed her face, drawing it out.
	That was all he noticed at first, her face.  For what seemed like forever they just stared at each other, until motivated by a force he couldn't fight he crossed the room to her, and that's how it started.  A look.  One look at a bar, and now he was alone on a beach.  It was funny how things happened.
	
	He walked along the water line letting his toes drag in it the icy water.  Something moved in a wave, it's dark shadow corrupting the golden moonlight.  Well he was not all alone at any rate.  
	They were married a year ago, before he was transferred, before any of this, before the other man.  He had to go.  Didn't she understand?  He had no choice.  She knew.  She didn't care.  
	'The first year is the best."  
	Who said that?  How wrong they were.  This is not how it is suppose to be.  He walked out into the water, letting it tickle his knees.
	"If I loved you I wouldn't be able to do this to you."
	She had said that too.  She even looked like she meant it.  He always believed her.  His fault. 
	Now what?  Where do he go?  What could he do?  Why?  There was a pay Phone a mile back; no. she was gone, with HIM.
	 The water was up to his waist now.  It was so beautiful.  And he was alone.  No she was with him.  She was always with him; all he had to do was close his eyes.