Did you see her there? Standing in the garden? With the wind rolling through her hair, and the green whips of the willow tree mimicking, in obeisance, her charmingly dirty golden mane?
Did you hear her? As you held her close to you? When she said your name in the silence, in the small spaces between the fibers of your cool sweater, between your pressurizing arms?
Did you know her? Leaning, arms around herself protectively, against the wall? No longer whispering your name, no longer saying anything.
Do you remember?
What do you remember? Do you remember that you're her friend in times of need, that you're the one she calls when she's crying and can't explain the tears pouring down her face? Do you remember the call in the early hours of the morning? Do you?
There's a certain celebrated safety in the comfort of a friend.
Thanks for puncturing the illusion.