All I had to do was poke my head around and I would see her, walking away. Her steps would be purposeful, elegant, possessed of a subtle sway that drew the eye.

I had watched her walk in front of me for many years, and I knew each frame of her stride in crystalline detail. Fourteen steps and she would turn her head and I would see the smile in her grey eye. Her hair would fall just so across her cheek and she would ask, “You ok?”

She was light and song given form. I was…not. She shouldn’t care, shouldn’t ask, but I smile and nod for her to continue.

True to form, she asked her question, the pattern broken by my absence. I heard her stumble, confused and squeezed my eyes shut, gasping for breath. She would go and I would stay, it would be better that way. If I could survive my heart shattering.

Her steps continued, and I heard the hesitation in them. I wanted to look, but dared not. I wouldn’t be able to stop from running to her.

When I could hear her steps no longer I slid down the wall and cried.