Weight

It was weeks later when he saw her again. They were in a bar. He was with someone else.

She had waved briefly before returning to her conversation, wrapping herself in the protection of distraction.

At some point in the evening, they found themselves near enough to speak, alone enough to try.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Even these words feel uncomfortable now.

“How’s life,” trails into a noncommittal sound at the look on her face.

“It was good to see you.”

After a brief hesitation, they embrace, letting go quickly because even their bodies are strangers now.

And after she is gone, the weight of their last conversation still seems heavy in the air.

“But I love you.”

“…I know.”

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Dream: Part Eleven

She made the decision early in the morning.  She put on her clothes with care, as if dressing for battle.  Each layer made her feel more secure, as if it was a part of her defense against him.

Lana found it difficult to face herself in the mirror.  Her hands shook as she tried applying mascara.

There was a half packed bag sitting by the door.

She wanted to leave without actually saying goodbye.