A man sits beside me—his hair the palest blond I’ve ever seen. His eyes are weary and red with spent tears and sorrow. He’s beautiful, like an iced-over lake filled with sage eucalyptus and blush-hued roses. He stares at me like I am the entire weight of his existence. Hope and relief bloom in those longing eyes. What is it you yearn for? I wonder. I study his features but don’t say anything. “Em?” he says softly, concern pulling his brows low. I shake my head slowly, guilt making my heart heavy as I whisper, “I’m sorry… I… I don’t know who you are.”
OH FUCK YOU
