I knew how I was supposed to feel when I was with him. Well, I knew what I was not supposed to feel. I wasn't supposed to feel anxious. Not tense, either. Or maybe I was. Maybe this was normal. I didn't know. So I let him whisper in my ear and put his hands on my hips. And I listened to him list the ways in which I was slowly killing him.
None of which turned out to be the actual way that I killed him.
I thought that this must be what purgatory was like. Can't go forward. Can't go back. Awaiting some official judgment.
Megan MirandaIf you pretend something hard enough, could it become real?
Megan MirandaOr maybe I just wasn't looking. I hadn't known that a light could be a feeling and a sound could be a color and a kiss could be both a question and an answer. And that heaven could be the ocean or a person or this moment or something else entirely. But today, heaven was a wood-floored room with blue walls and a messy desk and Decker not letting go. He was still holding onto me.
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