The space between
360 Words
Three days.
That’s how long Alex had been gone.
No texts. No emails. No sign of him.
Claire didn’t want to admit how much it bothered her. They weren’t dating. He was just helping with the gallery renovation, right? But the silence echoed.
By the fourth day, she started wondering if she’d imagined it all — the late-night laughter, the quiet confessions, the way he looked at her like he saw her.
She stood in the unfinished back room, staring at the mockups they’d pinned to the wall. His handwriting. His lines. Still here — even if he wasn’t.
Just then, the front door chimed.
Claire turned.
Alex stood there, windblown, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes soft.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey?” she repeated, folding her arms.
“I know. I vanished.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
He stepped closer. “I needed space. My brother’s birthday was this week. First one without him. I didn’t trust myself to be around people.”
Claire’s face softened.
“You could’ve told me.”
“I didn’t know how.”
They stood in silence, the city noise muffled beyond the glass.
Then Alex reached into his bag and pulled out a carefully wrapped canvas. “I made this. For the back room.”
Claire unwrapped it slowly.
It was a painting — or maybe a drawing, maybe both — of the gallery interior as it would look finished. But there was something else. Subtle. In the reflection of a framed glass piece was a faint outline of a man and a woman. Close. Almost touching.
She looked up, eyes wide.
“I thought it needed something real,” he said. “Something human.”
Claire stepped closer. “You didn’t have to disappear.”
“I was afraid if I stayed, I’d say something I couldn’t take back.”
“And now?”
He smiled — not the polite kind. The real kind. The vulnerable kind.
“I don’t want to take it back.”
Claire didn’t say anything. She just reached out, lacing her fingers gently through his.
And for once, neither of them pulled away.
- Writer
