He was holding her hand.
I stopped. They hadn’t heard me.
They didn’t even know I was there.
161.
now
I can feel the space opening up somewhere past the trees: the dark emptiness and fall of the jump, the smell of ancient stone and deep water.
And there below, the rocks.
162.
once, that night
“Oh,” I said, out loud.
It was such a stupid thing to say.
I was such a stupid thing to be.
But they hadn’t heard me. I wasn’t quite loud enough.
“It was really nice what she did,” Ella said. “Giving me the manifesto and everything.”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “It was.”
“I guess she’s not coming,” Ella said. “I texted her.”
“It’s okay,” Alex said. “I’ll jump with you.”
“Okay,” she said, but neither of them moved. He took a step closer, but not to the water. To her. They were still holding hands.
163.
now
I remember something, a secret, about being in the dimness before the dark. If you’re there
long enough
longer than you think you can stand,
you remember:
You were once an animal. Nothing but gut and instinct.
And here’s another secret.
You can be one again.
164.
once, that night
I couldn’t help anyone.
