No rain

1.

It's cloudy, gloomy, and that feels strange. After months of sunshine and perfect weather, I'd forgotten what an overcast day looks like. I wish it would rain, but nobody's calling for it.

I remember you coming into my room, hesitantly, to tell me what you had heard. Telling it as a story, rather than asking me, because you knew you had no right to ask. No right to be upset, but I could tell that you were.

What I don't remember is what I said, how I responded. Did I laugh? Get angry? Deny everything? The end of this story is a blank, the look on your face is a blank; what I remember is the hesitancy in your voice, because that was what calmed me. That you knew that you had no right.

2.

You had cut your hair and I didn't recognize you at first. Even your smile looked different. We went to a restaurant and I told you I was getting married. Both of us smiled widely, wildly, my cheekbones aching with the strain.

3.

I'm sorry I never showed up. I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.