Whitefish River I Can't Believe There's Somethin' Left in My Chest Anymore

He almost felt sick, laying there in the water, staring up at the blue sky, and yet all he could see was Ira's face right there as it was just moments ago. He couldn't shake it, try as he might. It saddened him, still. Still, she had not found anyone after their last personal conversation on the topic, how she swore to be incapable of such things - perhaps unworthy. Of course, it had only been a short few months since then and romance always took much longer than that... a true romance at least, something pure, something rightfully hers. Hieronymous only wished she would give someone a chance, Ira was worth it; but then again, was anyone worthy of her? Maybe that was the problem. She was simply unattainable. 

If only she would give herself that chance. 

With how she wandered away, that look on her face too as she hastily made some distance between them; all Hieronymous could think is just how badly he must have screwed this up. How uncomfortable he must have made her just now by breaking the barriers he had promised to keep between them. It ached. A dull ache that didn't seem to be physical. Something he wasn't quite familiar with but wished he was so perhaps he could manage it better. He ached for her, mourned the abrupt happiness he had almost brought onto her by bringing out the inner-puppy; and he wept for the probable permanent damage he may have caused between them. That rift that may never be crossed, opened by yours truly by well, being himself. Obnoxious and overly cheery. Overcompensating for the regret he felt on his earlier days - could he maybe someday move on too? 

Ha! Maybe... maybe. His voice trailed, trying to keep a jovial tone despite how it wavered at the end with a hitch in his throat. He too was distracted, sucked into his own void of thoughts. Goodday Count. With that, she was gone. Leaving the Constable to his thoughts, to linger on the events and try to make sense of it - to try and understand how he could fix it, how he could have kept it from turning so sour and awkward. Unfortunately, it may be too late, the damage was quite possibly done by his actions before trying to show Ira how much he adored her, and how his feelings were thrown out into the open. How awkward she must feel. 

For now, the Constable remained on the riverside. Belly in the sand while toes reached into the current, feeling it pass him by like sand through an hourglass. Gone but never able to return, lost in the moment. The sound of distant birds filled the air, but even that didn't distract him from the image of her face.