Turn Your Cheek

They lay in bed side by side, the glow of the fairy lights dancing in random sequence on the walls around them. He held her hand, clenched in his own, possessively and confidently as he guided her through the streets of the city. Up and down the stairs, slipping past the turnstiles, shoving into the closing doors of the subway. He massaged her feet, her back, bit off her buttons one by one, his tongue searing its presence into her flesh for many lonely nights to follow.


Was it good bye already? They pretended not. They drove back to their lonely little town, away from the bright lights and the big city, away from their last year.

It is 2007, it is the new beginning, she watches the full moon on her back, lying on his lap as they drive in the lush fog. She stroked his stubbled cheek, his too-long hair. They did not say anything.



He stayed one last night over, one more night over. They did not say it was their last. He drove her back home to her empty room, to her single bed. He smiled, he said good bye, he said he would call her soon. He leaned in. She turned her face, felt the kiss graze the edge of her lips, end on her cheek. She left the car and didn't look back.


When they talked they did not mention it. But they knew it was already over.