"Everything that kills me...

"...makes me feel alive."

"His cheekbones are more sculped. His skin is clearer. Even from here, I can tell he's grown. He's put together, he's neat in his suit and tie, and here I am, standing in my jeans and rolled-up sleeves, my red hair desperately in need of a brush, working at the local coffee shop.

"Hey, Mark." His voice is deeper than I remember it, clearer, more confident. He's changed. He blinks again, the surprise at seeing me clearing for something unreadable, something like guilt and something like shame. "Haven't seen you in a while."

I force myself to swallow, to move my mouth. He shouldn't be able to do this to me. He shouldn't be able to control me like this, make me shut down so fully like this. 'Yeah.' It's hard, it's cold, it's as comfortable as steel, it's saying, yeah, and it's your fault."