And then the lights faded and we were left alone in the dark once again. The sounds were all distant, all echoed whisper-like in the memory of the roar that only seconds ago consumed the air between us.
We just were. Lee, and I.
When I finally get to work, it seems like an hour of tired driving, my throat is a dry, tight muscle. I keep a hardhat in my car, and I put it on. It mats my dirty, wet hair to my forehead. I cringe at the feeling.
I sigh, and know that Lee and I will make it, eventually.
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1 comment:
I think we have similar writing styles.
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