Her hair caught the sea air in dark ribbons which played with her mouth as she spoke, ‘And is there a future for us?’

There.  He held the memory close.  There was the space, the moment, the chance for him to tell her.  He rewound the tape, replaying the scene again, searching for the Easter-Egg hidden somewhere in that desperate tally.

He had written the words to a thousand different endings, he had created a thousand ways for them to live happily ever after. But as he watched the scene again and again, the same damn words were buzzing at the edges of his mouth until his throat hurt with the effort of holding them back.  All the words he could have said, so many words that would have been okay, so many other words that weren’t, ‘I don’t know.’

The storm had come from nowhere, stealing the sun from the sky as her eyes held up a mirror to that same tethered star. And when she walked away, he had watched her until there was nothing left but the space that had held her.  He remembered how he had welcomed the rain on his face because he had no tears of his own.

And when he closed his eyes, he could still see his scars blistering on her skin.

 

 

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