his long fingers stretched across my fingers curled

around the sword handle like cracks

in a car windshield.  the slow motion

sets in.  I look up at him, the tiny

crescent moon on his chin, an old scar

that grew with him.  he peers down at me

and I can feel the warmth of his chest

behind my shoulder. I am glowing.  he laughs and

draws closer, almost an embrace.  his fingers

are warm and smooth on mine.

he straightens my back with one

hand, the other still tight on my

closed fist.

good he whispers, and then the

warmth is gone and the world

is in motion once more, his absence

cold against my back.

a tree whips across my vision. my seatbelt

snaps into my ribs, steals my breath.  he is running

alongside me.  steady he tells me.

don’t let the speed distract you.  

my mother is screaming and all

I can see is the face he makes

when his shoulder hurts the

curl of his fingers over my

fingers the snap in his strike fire

in his eyes the car

is off of the road.

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