[...]

Always more than a friend.  You are my ally, and part of the family.

[...]

and told you that I had to go.  You told me I had only been here for three hours.

It was the same house, but it felt different.  Everything was different, down to the sweeping backyard, dusty and barren.  The leaves indicated it was fall.

It was late, but it turned into morning.  I had stayed there overnight, forgetting if I had to go home or not.  Everyone I met seemed the same.  They regarded me being there as normal, as if staying there sparked little curiosity–I suppose it was normal in the way that curious people make it normal.  I talked to everyone; I was comfortable.  It felt like I was three years younger, having fun with them again.  Talking about whatever they were doing.

There was an extra character.  She was an older woman: not quite that old, but older than any of us.  She was living there, or maybe she wasn’t.  She knew the house well, as if she had been there her entire life.  She was looking out at the backyard with me, and seemed sad.  I didn’t know how to make her feel better, or if that was even my responsibility.  I always feel like it is, but maybe it wasn’t this time.

Because really, she knew what she was doing far more than I did, in the house that wasn’t mine.

I’ll leave it for everyone, and move on.

several days ago, in a confined paradise

i was handed a chance at absolute redemption
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