PIECES
The weeks that followed were quiet. Not peaceful — quiet. The kind of quiet that comes after a storm, when the wind has stopped and the rain has ended, but the air is still heavy with what happened. Adrian and Nina didn't see each other every day. They talked on the phone. Sent texts. Met for coffee in neutral places — never his house, never her apartment. Too many memories. Too many ghosts. "How are you?" he asked one afternoon. They were sitting on a bench in a park, a careful distance between them. "I'm okay," she said. "You?" "I'm okay too." They weren't okay. They both knew it. But they were trying. "Adrian," she said. "Yeah." "I want to tell you something. And I need you to listen without interrupting." He nodded. She took a breath. "I started seeing a therapist. To talk
- Writer
