night time scribblings

so, he says to me "even if I said I was sorry, would you forgive me?" and I say, "you should say you're sorry and see what happens" and he paces around the room, looking at everything but me, his face pretty much a blank and I think "I'll never know what he's thinking" and I say "tell me what you're thinking" and he says "it's so pointless, this back and forth" and I say "yeah, it is, so stop going back and forth; decide if you want to be here or not" and he says "I do want to be here but I don't want you to be there" and I try not to feel hurt when he says that because at least it's honest, at least he's talking, at least something is being said instead of terrible, unfathomable spans of silence and I say "well, you can't control where I am" and suddenly I realise that neither can I and that even were I to try I couldn't possibly answer why I'm sitting here instead of standing anywhere else and I can see he doesn't like that answer, that he wanted me to say something else so I ask "what do you want me to say?" and he replies "what do you want me to say?" and there we are - at an impasse of our own making - one struggling to keep her emotions in check and the other not struggling at all. Not at all.