Whispers of Until.. Part 1 - Shadows of Summer
His fingers reaching forward the way a person reaches for something they have already lost.
Summer's hair caught the last light of the afternoon sun. The strands glowed amber, then copper, then gold — a halo that lasted only a second before she turned her face away. He remembered the exact angle of her chin. The way her shoulders curved when she was about to say something she wasn't sure she should say. She had been turning toward him, then away, then toward him again, as if fighting some internal war that had nothing to do with him and everything to do with him at once.
She whispered something. He saw it rather than heard it — the shape of her lips forming syllables, soft and fragile as wet