Oddly enough, the girl seems to be both in the present moment and inexplicably far away. She reaches out and places her right hand on my jawline, touching my lips with her thumb. The sensation is very intimate and I hold still, unsure of how to react.
Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You don’t need to be sorry. I understand.” She searches my eyes, a hint of a smile spreading across her bloodied lips, “I love you, too.”
All I can do is stare at her with wide eyes. Her words and the warmth of her hand are so purposeful, so sure, my insides constrict as she lets go and sinks back into oblivion.
Blinking away my uneasiness, I take a deep breath and slowly push back up. With her warm body cradled in my arms, I run. I don’t stop when I realize how long this could take or when my lungs burn and my muscles cramp. I keep running, reliving the words… words that weren’t meant for me.
Unfortunately, I can’t outrun the strange, unexpected place in the pit of my stomach that kinda wishes they were.
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