The old words bleed into each other. They bleed. They bleed. The hours before the change are unsteady. They are an unsteady reminder, an unsteady force, an unsteady push against my life, against my control, against what I can handle. They are an unsteady pull, a pull that I pretend not to feel, a
I fill the space with my uncertainty, with my resolve. I fill it with the tension of solitude, of old words and old remedies. The small, leather bag stares back at me from the desk. It holds more assurance than I feel, more composure than I want, more than I can be. Wolfsbane, chains, the inevitabil
We don’t move, we don’t breathe, we don’t let it slip, let it slip, let it. We don’t let it slip. He is more than I can be, more than I can be in this moment, in this moment. We are alive in the silence, alive and full of the silence, of the silence and the world, the world that is more than I t
“The same thing happened before,” Lucas says, and he leans close, leans close and I feel it, feel it more than I think, more than I can, more than I let myself. “On my last case. He won’t see it coming.” My thoughts move like the pen, like his hands, like the storm. My thoughts are loud and they c
We are conspirators in the night, plotting and planning beneath the flicker of fluorescent stars. The storm rages with us, a chaos of intentions that mirrors my heart, my life, my change. Lucas bends close, his scent an intoxicating certainty. Our shoulders touch as we work through the papers, throu
His words are raw. His words are real. His words are more than I can be, more than I can take, more than I can stand. But I do. I let them in. The edges of this are sharp, sharp and unbearable, unbearable and soft, soft in ways I don’t expect, in ways I don’t believe, in ways I don’t let mysel