I did not see him for the relaxation of the day. I did not see him at work. I didn't see him when I got here home from work. In fact, I didn't see him till the next morning. Relief and guilt flashed thru me when I did see him. Relief that he wasn't hiding anymore, and guilt that I had hurt him enough, that he'd felt the need to disguise from me.
He was once sitting at the table, sipping his coffee, when I came into the kitchen. He regarded tired. Perfect...but tired. He glanced over at me, but said nothing as I sat throughout from him. I questioned if he'd be cool closer to me again, like he had been so lengthy ago.
"Hey," I stated softly.
The very facet of his lips curled up. "Hey," he whispered.
Well, at least he used to be talking to me. I resisted the urge to lace my fingers in his
