Strings

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She sat on the cold counter, watching her feet swing above the wood floor. The phone was pressed against her ear lightly, "I think the unknown will always drive me crazy, you know? It's like we have this endless amount of strings tying us to everyone that hold all these different possibilities. And I wish that I could've followed his and I's string to the end. I mean where did it lead? I can only imagine it. It's this whole tangled mess of what could've been."

"Well why didn't you find out where it lead?"

"The string got cut or it snapped. I dont know. That's the problem with the strings, sometimes they just break. Or sometimes people wake up and decide that they want to cut it." 

"Well what now?"

"I dont know," she whispered tiredly with the microwave flashing the numbers 2:30 am at her. "I just have this useless string  connecting me to a ghost and I wonder what they're doing with their half. Did they throw it out? Is it being used to tie their shoe? Is it wrapped around their pinky?"

"The real question is can broken strings be retied?"

Can they?
-my little string is tied around my heart like a tourniquet.

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