I try to tell him I’m sorry, but he doesn’t say a word. I reach for him, and he pulls away.

I tell him that it was an accident, a moment of weakness. I try to explain that he meant nothing to me.

But I know that he’ll nothing forgive me. I’ve done the unforgivable.

He finally makes a move, a single step towards the door. I try to reach again, but I am met with the same results.

I know that silence. His mind is working overtime. Try to make some sense out of this. He’ll try so hard. He always does.

He moves again. But this time he doesn’t stop. He gently opens the door and steps through, shutting it delicately behind him. He was always a gentle man, even during times of distress.

I move quickly to the window to watch him. His steps have already quickened. I look forward and know immediately where he is heading.

With a sudden burst of speed I hurry after him. But I know I’ll never catch him before gets to the well.