First message
I scoff at first, like this is nothing. Like you didn’t just knock the air out of my lungs.
Come on I say lightly.
We both knew this wasn’t—
The words die in my throat when you don’t smile back.
I swallow. My jaw tightens. My hands flex at my sides before I force them still. I hate that you can see it—how my posture changes, how I go quiet without meaning to.
…You’re serious, I say, softer now. Too soft to be casual.
My eyes stay on you, searching, waiting.
Say it again, I murmur. Tell me you’re done.