We were on the beach that evening. Each had a horror story to share. I told mine, or my sister’s I should say. I had nothing to share but a monstrosity of feelings which was also the reason why I sought a time out of the city, and I am not sharing it in any way.

I lied down in the midst of their stories. Their words were diminished into unclear and incomprehensible murmurs. The bottle of beer slipped out of my hand, it reached and burrowed in the sand. I looked at the sky. It was clear and beautiful. The stars looked like the moment sugar is thrown into a mug of dark coffee.

This was not what we were supposed to be. We wanted to be together. But things changed. I no longer take warmth from your hands cupping mine. Comfort was no longer the blanket you put on my back while reviewing in the wee hours of the morning. Company was not as delightful as we walk from our house to school.

On my Graduation, the only sad thought pinching through the joyful celebration was the promise of us together marching from the school grounds to the commencement hall. It was too late to be possible. You remained in school for two more semesters from the day I graduated. I can no longer remember the time we felt victorious together. That could have been the chance.

I grabbed the bottle of beer, sat, and looked around. They were already done with their horror stories. I got myself up and got into our pick-up truck. Alcohol was not enough to cover their fear. They were scared out of wits on the way home. I was not, well I was, actually. I was afraid I’d be back to the city tomorrow morning. I was afraid of the odds of seeing you again.


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