I drag myself up with a grunt, my back protesting the motion. My jaw is tight and my pulse still hammering from the mix of adrenaline and… something worse. I don’t even brush myself off, I just go straight to the espresso machine like maybe bitter caffeine will cauterize the mess in my chest. The smell of coffee doesn’t help like usual, because she’s still here, on my mouth, in my head. Her voice breaking is echoing in my head when she said Josh didn’t feel right anymore. Her eyes, sharp but soft at the same time, like she wanted to hate me but didn’t know how to.
I pour the shot, light a cigarette, and stare out the kitchen window. The morning sun spills across the marble, too bright for what I feel. Her words keep looping, stuck like a hook behind my ribs.
You were my person.
Yeah,
