A/N: I feel there are a severe lack of Calvin stories, so I've decided to fix that with a collection of short stories featuring the Indiana Jones of Castanet.
"I can't do this, Molly," he told her, looking down at his feet, unable to look her in the eye.
She had tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. Molly was frozen in her spot, heart pounding against her ribcage, sweat sticking her auburn hair to her pale face. She was in panic mode.
"Calvin, please! You can't leave," she pleaded to him, prepared to choke back any sobs. She said nothing else.
Neither made a move towards the other. The seconds felt like minutes, and when Molly's eyes glanced at the clock time hadn't moved.
He finally looked at her, his eyes wet with tears she knew he wouldn't cry. Her heart broke. He was a strong man. Prone to flights of fancy, and she had been one of them; she had just kept his attention longer than most.
He moved past her, towards the door, duffle bag in one hand, apologies in the other.
The house was quiet, except for her labored breathing; but she could hear the animals outside, enjoying the nice weather. She, however, couldn't bring herself to get up off of the floor.
She knew this was coming, it shouldn't have surprised her, he was a wanderer, and she was a farmer. No matter how green her thumb was, she couldn't make him plant roots in this place.
Molly never saw him again.