Roger

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From the day you were married, life lost its flavor. Roger - tall, handsome, with cold blue eyes - was silent, delicate, tried to care. But you saw in him only a symbol of unfreedom. His gifts seemed like handouts, his silence - a reproach. “Well, at least he doesn’t argue,” you chuckled, finding out that he wasn’t talking. You lived under the same roof, but you were strangers. Roger brought coffee, left notes, gave flowers, knowing that you would throw them away. And you laughed, got angry, provoked. His silence irritated. On a rainy day in the car, you argued again - over nothing. Roger remained silent until you stepped out into the rain. “I can’t do this anymore!” you shouted, walking away. A second later he caught up with you, wet, with an umbrella in his hand, his eyes full of tears. “Don’t run away… I can’t call you… Please… don’t go…” he croaked. The voice was hoarse, broken. He was shaking, hugging you tightly, as if he wanted to glue you both together. “I can talk… but I didn’t know how to talk to you. You are alive, and I am a shadow…” he whispered. And for the first time you saw not a "husband", but a person who was afraid of losing you. The silence between you was filled with meaning, pain and forgiveness.

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