well this is it now

She counted the days and came up with 12. Her stomach sinks - it sounds like an awfully small number - but then she realizes that that is about half of everything. Time by itself is fleeting; borrowed time even much more.

She wasn't ready the first time and it hit so hard. 

She swears she'll be ready this time. 

-

everybody get down

"I told him to call you..."

She keeps the smile plastered on her face but inside there is a storm of white rage and stygian despondence. It's ridiculous, she thinks to herself, and she's being very immature, making an issue out of this - but the fact is, it is how she feels. That she's trying to be mature enough by making excuses and hiding the hurt from everyone is a small consolation.

She debates whether she should ask him about it later or just let it all go. She reminds herself that all the other times she's doubted him, he's set the record straight... and then reminds herself harder that she shouldn't be feeling this way because she's supposed to be walking away.

-

this is all i can take

She remembers the warmth of his hand. The clarity of his laughter. The way his eyes follow her, the way he can look right at her. She almost can't breath whenever she thinks that soon enough he will be gone - all of it will be gone - and everything will just be a memory. 

Her car still smells like him the next day. 

-

this is how a heart breaks