The sparkles caught in the tangle of her tousled hair, she stands against the orange horizon.

The coffee’s still brewing.

The taste of iron and salt fills your mouth.



Light crashes into the room and sets her eyes on fire.



Angry noises fill your ears.
The phone is ringing. Is the TV still on?

Tears flood the air in bubbles at the collision of her heart and yours. Running mascara, the tendons tracing the curve of her porcelain neck.
Soundless lips.
Her gleaming cheeks, bare feet.




She never looked so beautiful.




The laundry is done. The dryer’s beeping.




You reach out. But lightning bounced off your own t-shirt into your eyes. Your hands hold her silhouette and the gale from the swinging door.

Suddenly the room is dark again. How long are you going to stand there?





Go get the coffee, answer the phone and turn the TV off. Your dryer’s still beeping.


One of these days she will come back.




Breathe.





Are you still there?