It was cold. It was autumn. It was dusk.
The two of them were walking around. The weather was nice, or nicer than it had been the rest of the week. She’d suggested it. They’d walked around the block. Got coffee from the gas station. Trudged down the cracked and leaf strewn sidewalk.
Her pink and ungloved hands were wrapped around the styrofoam cup. Her coat was inappropriate for the weather, as was her scarf. Her face was buried in it, but it was too thin to keep the cold out. The same for the coat. Both were more fashionable than functional. She was shivering. It was almost imperceptible if you weren’t truly looking.
She wasn’t built for winter. She was barely built for this.
He watched her dig her face out of her self-imposed silk prison. There was the long bridge of her nose. Her chapped and clumsy lips. She brought her cup up to them, blowing on the rising steam. To him it resembled the smoke from a cigarette. She took a sip. She flinched. The flavor was probably bad. That was the thing about gas station coffee, it was always reminiscent of tobacco.
He took a sip of his own coffee. It was bitter. It was bad. It was hot enough to blister.
They should talk about it. It was funny. Wasn’t it? That they were both here right now in this moment, their outsides freezing but their insides burnt? That meant something, right?
He nudged her with his elbow to get her attention. She stumbled a bit, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the contact.
He missed the summer. The summer when they met. When it was so hot they felt like they would melt under the unforgiving sun, but still they stayed together. As if they had to huddle for warmth.
Back then she looked at him. Just him. He had to hold her hand wherever they went because if he was there, she wouldn’t see anything else.
Now she looked right through him. If she even looked at all.
Everything was washed out in blue. Soon it would be darker. Colder. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. Her fingers would freeze.
He looked up. The pale light of the stars was beginning to fade in. The stars were always there, they just weren’t always visible because of the brightness of the sun. It blocked out all other light from the sky.
They reached the end of the sidewalk. The end of the world. They stopped.
They were illuminated beneath the brightness of a streetlight.
She took a breath. Not deep, but sharp enough that it was audible in the silence.
Til then, the entire stroll was silent.
Then, she said, “I think I should go.”
He nodded. He knew this was coming.
She was holding on to her cup so hard her thumb punctured the side. Her hand and the pavement were stained brown.
Then, she said, “You know what I mean by that, don’t you?”
He nodded. In a way, she’d left so long ago. Her feelings may have faded with the heat.
She sighed, shook her head, placed her ruined cup on the ground. Her hands went to her pockets. Then, she said, “This is it, then.”
Even when she left, she didn’t look at him. He stood there beneath the light, watching her go as the dark descended. When he couldn’t see her silhouette, he could still hear the dull clicking of her boots.
She didn’t look back. Not even once.
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