39. B|
from this : things you forgot to say
1. what was i?
he’s nothing but a figure made of smoke and shoes. she doesn’t know why she becomes fascinated, or why she opens her mouth in the first place, but her heart’s always been a step ahead of her mind. it isn’t infatuation– she’s just curious. he’s an enigma. an unknown variable.
(she never quite figures him out, but when he finally smiles, she thinks it’s a step closer.)
2. where were you?
it begins at the rooftop, that violet-eyed sky. at some point it becomes nothing more than a notion. he’s late night calls now, curtains pulled open, a picture, then several more.
i won’t keep you, kid.
she hangs up first. he tells her to.
(sleep comes much, much later.)
3. what were you?
at some point the calls stop. she doesn’t push it; doesn’t give it a second thought. the rooftop is vacant. it has been for months, and slowly but surely she learns to fall asleep without the phone in her hand or a sunrise in another city. the door’s locked now- no unauthorized trespassing, reads the sign. she almost asks him if he knows about it, but the thought’s quickly forgotten. no time to daydream, they say, and she means to say that it’s not daytime she’s thinking of, but dusk.
in the end, he’s still smoke and shoes, a lazy smile.
(in the end, it’s all she has.)