"So… I've got this friend."

It happened amidst those last grand chords. It happened with my hands on your chest, my white velvet, your black sleeves. It happened when I wanted it most, those last few days before you left, back when I was your friend and you were my rib caging.

The teacups all stood witness in chipped saucers as the gold in your eyes played across my skirts, velvet with the magic of the fairytale we had all been living on this polished floor for the past three months. I held my breath and smiled up through my eyelashes and waited for your fingers to find my chin like they always did when you would meet me by the stairs, my knees against yours, your hair falling across your brow.

It never happened. Not the way I thought, anyway.

"And what's his name?"

If my life had a soundtrack, you would be the space between the songs.

By the way, I haven't breathed yet.