Verity.

• Romi Foster, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2012

The lift moves up and I feel myself doing it again, running away, but this time I don’t know if it’s what I want.
I don’t know anymore.
My heart races and I slide down the side of the wall, crying openly and feeling like everything’s cracking down the centre.
The doors are about to open and I stand up, then suddenly I think ‘I love him and I believe him too.. but it’s too late now.’
And as I walk my way I don’t stop crying, if anything, I get’s worse as I repeat to myself ‘It’s too late.’
But it’s not.
Looking around at the sound of footsteps I see that it’s not too late.
It’s not too late at all.
It never was.