I’m not dead.
I’m here.
Andrew turns me to face him.
His eyes are wild.
“You serious right now? You tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me?” He's breathing hard, clutching my face. “What—you don’t look before steppin’ off a goddamn curb? Just walk into fuckin’ traffic? The fuck’s wrong with you? You’re New York.”
His voice spikes, almost yelling now.
“You think you’re invincible? Madonn’… Sonny—use your fuckin’ head!”
His voice cracks mid-curse,
realizing what he's saying.
His chest rises,
a breath he can’t swallow.
My eyes water, my vision going blurry.
“I didn’t see it.”
My words shake.
My hands too.
“I didn’t fuckin’ see it coming.”
His stares into my eyes,
and his chest caves.
Panic, relief, fury, guilt,
all of it floods his face in three seconds flat?—
eyes shining, mouth open, caught between
begging, cursing,
throwing up his whole heart on the sidewalk.
And then?—
He exhales.
His hands still shake as he cups my face.
His forehead presses to mine,
the only way he can stay upright.
Then he pulls me back into his arms,
head dropping into my neck.
