Into the tunnel she goes. In her own thoughts, where nobody knows.
Here he comes my way, he looks so good in that baby blue flannel, I can still smell his cologne from the last time he wore it. He smells like fall; fresh autumn air and faint scent of leaves, mmm… him.
He leaves the room to get protection.
She has to be brave, she thinks. As she takes a deep breath, she tries to clear her head.
Her favorite word comes to mind. Her word is kind and comforting. Supports her when she’s down. Her word welcomes her with open arms. Her word stands by her side. Her favorite word is often followed by laughs and smiles. Her word is him.
Here he comes my way again.
Into the tunnel she goes. Feeling pressured to go on. She knows he will understand. He does not judge her nor does he force her to give him a reason for anything. He lets her control her own body that way.
A word has to have tough skin. When just one word is said, it’s left vulnerable in the open. Her favorite word must meet her least favorite word, no.
Out of the tunnel she goes.