tell him about the visionMature

"I have something important to say-!" Charlotte interjected, "Much more important than that, please, trust me on this one." She smiled softly. "I'm sorry for interrupting. It was very rude, but this is special."

Nathan frowned slightly, and furrowed his brow. What was important to Charlotte often wasn't important to him at all. The things she valued were small in life. She loved her guitar, greenery, and the sound of birds. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that what she was about to tell him was painfully insignificant. A product of her own wild imaginations.

Seeing the displeasure on his face, she bit her lip for a moment, and grabbed his wrist, pulling him over to the sofa to sit down. "I saw you. But you were happy." After  a short pause, she spoke again. "That's a heavy word. I saw you happy, with a woman. You were smiling, and laughing too." Her face brightened as she recalled the vision. "It's going to happen." Charlotte concluded, folding her hands on her lap.

Hearing such a thing didn't change Nathan. He was bemused at the most, as much as he wanted to trust Charlotte's vision. Nathan had always been skeptical of what she saw, since her visions sometimes twisted and changed with circumstance. They were never concrete enough for him to grasp. Unlike Charlotte who let the images slip by, Nathan needed something solid to catch. There was nothing of that nature to be found. He shook his head, and showed a pressed smile.

"Of course, honey."

The first vision Charlotte had still replayed in her head. The woman with the fiery hair was unlike the one her Father had sat on the couch with. Each time Charlotte thought about the woman, the determination in her eyes grew within the vision. Her dark eyes bore right through Charlotte's mind and into the deepest recesses of her heart until there was a cavity there. She felt empty until that cavity flooded with fear. There was something wrong.

The woman with the fiery hair strutted down the cracked pathway in the city. Her cheeks were a gaunt, grey color. They matched her trench-coat. Her unruly hair was pulled back and tied. To have it flowing about seemed too carefree for a woman of forty-one.  She stepped with purpose. Her boots had a slight heel that didn't click when her feet hit the ground. Silence was her closest friend. Two men trailed far behind her, each identical in dress. She didn't look back as they trailed her down the block like two shadows.

The End

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