It’s whispering to me. Singing unfamiliar songs.
Maybe just not with him.
The day sails by in an anthem of eerie chords and ominous prose.
Not with him.
When I trudge through the front door that evening and close the door on the sunset-kissed sky, I drink in the aroma of sizzling salmon and savory greens.
Alex glances over his shoulder from the kitchen. Candlesticks flicker from the dining room table, adorning the ivory cloth, as smoke curls toward the ceiling.
He sends me a smile.
Not. Him.
I stare at the smoke, in a daze, slipping out of my heels and securing my purse on the hanger. I blink, and I’m in the kitchen. I don’t remember moving.
“Hope you’re hungry.” Alex flips the salmon in the saucepan and drizzles it with lemon butter and sprigs of fresh dill.
The smell is rich and warm, an invitation that feels too good to be true. I grip the edge of the counter, my fingers pressing into the cool stone.
I should say something. A thank-you. But all that comes out is a breath.
“Sit. I’ll bring you a plate.”
Another blink, and I’m seated at the table with a fork clutched inside my sweaty palm. Alex’s chair squeaks against the tile as he yanks it back and plops down.
He starts talking. Rehashing his day.
A laugh, a scowl, a rant.
There’s a death-metal orchestra banging cymbals in my chest.
Th-thump. Th-thump.
My eyes lift toward the ceiling. Tendrils of smoke curve toward the light, twisting and vanishing before they reach it.
“So maybe I’ll just—”
“I think we need a break.”
I inhale sharply. The crescendo abruptly stops.
My voice cuts through his like a blade, severing his words at the quick.
Alex freezes, fork hovering midair. A slow, cautious smile flickers. “What?”
My mouth snaps shut. Panic slithers through my chest, plunking in my stomach like lead.
He chews his bite of salmon, slow and deliberate. “I’m working on Thailand, don’t worry. I reached out to a travel agent to help us score the best deal. I was thinking fall, after the summer rush. We can—”
“No, I mean…abreak. For us.” The words barely make it past my clogged throat. Meek and pathetic. “Something temporary. I don’t know. I just…”
Regret sets in the second his smile fades.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
My eyes sting. “I just feel…sad.”
