The Sink Was Full Of Fishes

No words were writing up onto her screen.Jill had been blasted by Melania's behaviour, so unexpectedly revealing to make him shake over his chair. He got so emotioned to become stone, unmoving like every other time his feelings for her had annhilated his skill to react.
But she was expecting one reaction, satisfied to have shown her heart out. If he could have been able to see her in her dim room flashed with screen blue lights, silent with the monotone exceptions of the noise of the conditioning air system, he would have seen tears streaming down her face, mute tears of downloading.
She'd finally confessed to him she was still in love with him, and it felt like erasing a weight from her chest.She couldn't stand to be only half sincere with Jill, and if she'd done it for months had been just to let him rebuild his life.She had tried to forget she was in love with him to let Jill live, and to try to not dwell in regrets and memories herself.
She' been able in that: she had been strong enough to forget how marvellous had always been to listen to his voice telling her he was loving her like the most perfect of human beings; she'd been good enough to brush in a corner of herself the fact only in his embrace she'd ever felt the true happiness and rest, the true satisfaction and desire.Jill, and Jill only had been there to make her feel fine and shining, Thinkin of him, and exclusively him she had perceived her entire essence vibrating of a mixture of love, and passion and faith.
Yes, she'd confessed to him she was still in love: she hadn't properly written that down, but he must have understood it.What about her future, then?
Why no words on that screen?
"Meli..." there they were: hope or death?
"...I never stopped to love you angel: not even for a second. I just... I just can't: it goes beyond my human strenght..."
Happiness it's an heart that breaks in thousands of pieces to become an air dance of thousands of butterflies of every colour.
Life was truly being nice with her: she must dry the tears off, and she must have jumped up instead, and sing, and dance! Cos only unhappy people shed fair tears: happy people don't have to.
So that night they didn't sleep: they used their time to conjugate verbs like to love to like towish to desire to come to stay todream to wait to live to create....

Then Melania did finally sit on the British Airlines flight to Heathrow, equally parting her expectations among different aspects of the holiday she'd waited so long to have: she expected to live a great gig along Jill, she expected to live amazing days along Jill and she expected to go around London 100 times again, along Jill.
There was a guy sharing the flight with her, apparently for her same reason. He was coming to Kneboworth from Naples, having won a ticket for the event that had been the prize for a competition Radio Deejay had created.Unfortunately the guy resembled a CIA agent in incognito with a similar intention to share conversation and amusing anecdotes about his own life, so the girl renounced at the idea of passing time chatting on the flight drowning into her seat cuddled by imagines in her head of pleasant meetings and embraces.
By the time the announcement of landing was spread in the airplane, though, she raised to caught a sight of the Country below the window aside her silent companion: he didn't like her protention and he rebuked her, causing the cruel note in her head he might have been a contemporary, but he actually belonged more to Pleistocenus.
What she had hoped for, after all? To see from the sky a piece of the wide grass where she would have been the subsequent day, was that so hard to give out? That unseable hairy sheep of a man. But she sat again and quietly hated him.