the sort of trouble that's expected. Well, I don't need to tell you that. [Goodbye]. If we should ever [run] into one another, recognize me.
In-viting
eyes. Two black voids absorbing everything in their dark reflection. And I was there blocking her view. Desperate, yes, but some part of me was persuaded to interfere.
I extended my hand out and she bypassed it, wrapping her arms around me instead. I said, I love you. Her response was a faint echo of her mother’s last words: no you don’t. I then understood, the you I was speaking to was someone else from a different time.
In that final embrace, she saw herself as a little girl, applying makeup to her mother's embalmed face, concealing years of abuse she will never recover from, as to be
ex-pected.
In-side,
my grandmother is always present, even though she is slowly slipping away - vision blurred and memory fading. I watch as she ambles down the hallway, bracing each step with a hand on rail. Her neighbor argues that she stole her dress. Adding to her claim that she sneaks into her room at night to wear her skin. Distracted by the accuser's disturbing assertion, I look back to see the suspected thief is gone.
I did not anticipate how great the loss was or the anger that would follow. My immediate response was to disconnect from any virtual community - all accounts to be forgotten - never to return. How could I share my dulling pain in a place of polished surfaces - nothing to be reflected upon - so I stopped showing up, another closed
ex-hibition.
'Tomorrow,' I tell her, 'I must [go away]. But one day soon – before you have learned to [forget], before I have grown too [impatient] – I shall bring you back.'
In-stead
she tore it in half, not once but three times, then handed the pieces to Tim. “Your adoration is thoughtful, but keep your memory.” She
ex-haled.
In-ked
in black, were the words I wrote inviting her to take a second look, shuffled between the unread pages of her library. In the event of their discovery, perhaps her reaction will have lessen without my
ex-ploitation.
In-ching
into bed, I sleep with conviction, for the troubles that illuminate my dark room - project nightmarish threats in the voids where wallpaper once hung. Cascading notifications of followers and updates all beckoning for my attention.
These voids want to consume me. Determined to see beyond the imposing surface, I dig beneath the painted veneer. A follower appears, lingering to be recognized - accepted as genuine and perhaps pursued with the same honesty. Yes, it might be a Miss direct. Her appearance like others before her barely grant a second 
ex-amination.
[She] seemed to be looking back. [Tim] thought he could see [her] lift a hand in farewell, but because of the distance, and the rain, he couldn't be sure.
In-
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In-
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[She] said you could hear whispers from the other side, your loved ones [wanting] to say what they needed said. [They were] still lingering [waiting to be heard].
alive. It was about finding a [companion]. And it was about being [seen], the one thing only followed from the other, that many things [can't be shared] so many more [can't be undone].
[He was] haunted by [an all-consuming] knowledge of opportunities missed. [And yet he] told no one of how he had wakened from a restless sleep with the message from his [grandmother] echoing [leave me be].
Silence. It's dead. Up ahead, there's a massive littered [reservoir], planked by [a concrete] bridge. Beyond [its obstruction] is more skyline, more city. I get out and start [sorting through the mess].
[to remove] her face the same as if [he] were looking into the rain, and again [he reminds himself], This is not [going to wash away].
[He reached for a cigarette], and [gave me his last one]. To begin our [parting]. With such politeness and such care. It's a day I recall not in sadness, but in wonder at [what came before].
it's [incredible to] imagine anyone ever reading this thing as if I [had gone missing]. And if that were to happen [it would] be because [Tim] actually got worried enough to [see it through].
[She] stared a moment at the [phone]. A meeting. That was all. But [she also] knew, one meeting was sometimes all it took. [She looked] down [at her cat], "how do you feel about [moving]?"
[She] stood up, [and] she walked out of the [house] out of its shadows and into the [blinding sunlight], and as she stepped forward, she could not yet see what lay before her.