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so many memories crowded out around him. she wasn't going to put a metaphor on that.
The day was so heavy. She had two meetings. She thought of him .
always.
always.
always.
today, he'd be making up scenarios in his head, affixing a budget, nudging talent or not. Today was Tuesday trivia.
She had taken two days off last week just because she could. it was nothing - just passing time.
She had taken him on the woods - probably after the target shopping since she could only remember the woods once. the path near her parent's house. He was talking about her mystery novel and wondering when she'd give it to him to read.
It was October. They had been to a mediocre rock concert. She never listened to this band anymore. It would be like opening a wound with her short fingernails.
She loved him so very
much, and the
nightmare about seeing him again in a nursing home in twenty years and having him say she was special - he should have pursued her more, but it scared him and would have taken exposing himself.
she understood of course, but now that she was older
she realized how very few men she'd chase into nursing homes going
"was any of it real."
so few.
Now, the best she could do would be to keep walking. The grass was definitely long enough to cut, but there had been a butterfly hanging upside down on one of the tiny white flowers, and she used that as
excuse 437
to not do anything about it.
she pulsated with him.
throbbed with him.
the house next door was going on sale. She apparently was responsible for three or four cats now. She slept a lot and early. She lived in a town she knew no one.
she was dead inside and feared she might always be.
she took her medicine
but she still
lost
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