~ Making A Choice ~

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She didn't know what she was doing. That was the sad, but unquestionable truth. The very last sane thing she remembers of passing through her mind was Leonard blocking the front door with a fearful look in his eyes, like she've never seen before.

"Don't… Please, don't…", he begged her; his voice being muffled by the pain that was consuming him more and more, as the slowly seconds passed.

She, on the other hand, didn't get dissuaded. Virginia just continued walking forwards abruptly, with that inexpressible look of hers, however, so cold, bypassing the static body of her lover. She didn't say a word, while she was leaving. Not even a single sound. Like a ghost, she thought. Was that what she became? A mere tormented soul trapped in the world of living, where she would never belong? No one believes in ghosts. So, why would anyone believe her?

Now she was waiting for the train. Oh, she loved to travel by train. At least, she really enjoyed the last trip she'd done four years ago, to London, from that same station. The smell of winter; the bittersweet taste of the pouring rain; the agitation of the citizens who were walking around, looking for their right stop (…) She've always thought - since she departed from London - that that was her only right destiny. No matter what could happen in anywhere else, (…) London meant home. Meant Life.

"Passengers to London, the final train of the afternoon arrived."

She got up, picked her bag and walked closer to the edge. That was it. She could already feel the rush; the freedom! Was that life? If it was, she've really missed it.

"Virginia, wait!", coming out from the massive crowd, Leonard Walsh screamed. He've never been a person who used to scream, in whatever situation. But, like he said once, Virginia was his little big exception. "Are you just going to leave this like that?! Not even a single explanation? Don't you think I deserve it? After all these years we've been together!", he was panting a lot, thanks to the great journey he had made up 'till there, so his words were coming out harsh and slightly bitter.

"What am I leaving, Leonard? I've got nothing here. This place took everything away from me. Everything! I don't want to live like this… I can't bear another day here. Your presence is no longer enough for me to survive another day, because this place took that too. The only thing that keeps me from dying is the air I breathe, simply because it's everywhere... And what explanation could I give you, Leonard? Should I say I'm sorry? I cannot say that, my love. I would never lie to you…", she was looking at him, very deeply into his eyes.

There've always been something about his eyes, she thought to herself, as she smiled at him, putting her smooth hand around his left cheek. His skin was shaking in fear; he was biting his lower lip, in a way to contain not just the frustration, the anger and the disappointment, but also the feeling of powerlessness that, since who knows when, was filling his heart.

"What does it mean to regret when you have no choice?", she asked, always looking at him intently. "This is Death, Leonard. And I choose Life."

~ Just Another Night Of December ~

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They were both next to the bonfire in silence, like in any other day. It was mid-December and the snow was falling down gracefully, as they could see through the window. Leonard was smoking his typical pipe and reading some old newspapers he had found in that same afternoon. He looked at Virginia, scribbling loudly in her notebook, just like in any other day. However, she was looking merely confused, he thought to himself. He didn't want to interrupt her, but yet he was curious. So typical of him.

"What's wrong?", he asked, nervously.

Virginia stared at him, very serious. In that minute, Leonard regretted of having called her. But then it was already too late - damage done, so what could he do? He wanted to know why was Virginia feeling frustrated in that night. That was absolutely untypical of her: she always knew what to write when she really wanted to. So, what was happening?

"Somebody needs to die...", she said, looking away at the picture of her sister, in London. "… In my novel", she explained herself after, while rubbing her temples smoothly.

Both got really quiet, emerged in a cold and deep silence, occasionally interrupted by the sound of children who were running around, across the street. Leonard was holding a challenging question on the tip of his tongue… But since he was on a day of taking risks, why not another one?

"Why? Why does someone need to die?", he asked, taking a sip of his blackberry whiskey, imported right from Italy, on a December night just like that one.

Virginia got up and walked to the window. She looked outside and stood, for a moment, just watching those little children playing around - throwing snowballs to the air, building up snowmen and drawing little angels on the ground. What a beautiful picture, she thought. It almost looked like Heaven, such simplicity of the moment. She found herself smiling and waving at them, but they were so distracted that they didn't even realize the poor old lady she now was. Finally, she looked at Leonard, always quiet and paying complete attention to her, like in any other day of the year.

"Someone needs to die so that others can learn to value life."

~ Late For Lunch ~

Leonard entered the room - it was already 12 o' clock - and Virginia was still at her desk, writing down something that he was completely unaware of and looking around, without ever realizing his presence. She was focused, he noticed. But still, it was lunch time already and she couldn't get late, or else she wouldn't take her medication on time. Suddenly, a slight concern embraced Leonard, so he came over to Virginia, briefly touching her shoulder.

"What are you doing?", he mumbled, almost whispering.

"Writing my novel…", she answered.

Leonard got surprised. His wife didn't write since last spring because, quoting her, she wasn't feeling inspired enough. He grinned, stepping away.

"Well, it's lunch time. You should go downstairs.", he said, reaching the exit door.

"I'm going. Just need one more minute."

He stopped by the italian vase near the door. He kept looking at her, quiet, as she continued to write. It was always like that, when she was writing: she created that impenetrable "wall" around her that prevented everyone from bothering her. It had been awhile, he thought. He kind of missed it, to be honest. She've never been a smiley woman - for the way she was raised -, but when she was writing, she had that mysterious glow in her eyes; that little dimple around her shy and instantaneous smile.

"I'll wait for you then"

Leonard went downstairs slowly and sited at the kitchen table. He put his napkin on his lap and laced his fingers. He kept completely silent and patient, as the hours passed by. Soon he realized that Virginia wouldn't come for lunch - somehow, he already suspected it, before. But he didn't get mad or disappointed at her; never. In fact, he couldn't be prouder. She was writing again, after all that time.
She was finally herself again.