Mad Men

"What are you the most afraid of?" He asked softly

As he pulled the blanket off just enough of her thigh so he could feel his breath catch in his throat

While he stroked the soft pale skin

Almost glowing in the moonlight

She was quiet for a while

Watching his fingertips trace circles just above her knee

Playing like the fluttering wings of hummingbirds against her leg

The blue light from the T.V. flickered and she knew she'd have to give him some answer.

Shrugging before she spoke, discrediting whatever she was going to say before she said it

She told him "Of things not working out."

He pulled her head down onto his chest and stroked her hair

And she knew she had lied.

Things not working out was hardly the worst of her fears.

It was the silence, the complacency, the boredom and the iciness that always came before the leaving

That scared her most.

The venomous words that could part the tender lips of someone who once loved you

The way their soft hands that once held you could turn hard

The way their blue eyes that once adored you could hold no warmth or sense of home.

The terrible isolation that comes with not being loved anymore.

Instead of correcting herself and telling him this, she kissed his chest and pulled the blanket up under her chin.

Hoping for the best.