Tuesday 200 - #52
“Nice view,” he said, sitting down on the park bench, a comfortable distance between us. Six months ago he’d have sat uncomfortably close.
“Yeah,” I said. “Found it years before Barbara Covett.” The city’s glass buildings were just beginning to reflect the pinkish-amber flames of a summer sunset.
“Who?”
“Nobody.” I inched my leg towards him. Nothing.
“Reminds me of that Judi Dench movie,” he said. Bless. He never could remember character names. “Why are you laughing?”
“You just make me smile.”
“Well stop it. And stop begging me …”
“I hardly begged, Jonathan. I suggested we catch up. You’ve moved on, fine. But there still must be something in that asbestos-protected heart ...”
He glared at me out of the corner of his glistening eye.
“Listen. Not a day passes I don’t think of you. You once told me that we’d never be happy without each other, and you’re probably right. But I just can’t do this. It might be good for you, but it’s not for me. Please. You've gotta let go.”
He reached out towards my knee, but pulled back as he rose and walked up the hill.
It was better.
For a second.
Now it’s worse.
:: :: ::
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