~

Not much time had passed.
Although it seemed as if it had.
But it was true; she had not
expected to hear from him again
(even though she always hoped).

Inspite of their unusual circumstances,
knowing him had somehow changed her.
At times, she prayed for blindness.
No longer the same person
and no longer wanting the same things,
it was not easy to reconcile her life
(such as it was) to all that it now lacked.
Instead, her profound and lasting sadness
consistently equalled the sound of flapping wings,
the purposeful pushing-of-air for certain release,
which always prompted a tear.

When he asked her how she'd been,
she hoped he hadn't noticed her hesitation.
As if all the air had been extracted from the room.

How could she tell him that things had not gone well?

So she lied.
Hoping to appear a little indifferent in her delivery,
knowing how she might not hear from him again,
and to contain all that might otherwise
spill-out-and-just-make-a-mess, she replied,
"Good. Just busy with work.".