Two steps behind her, I say her name. "Skye.

When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?

Imagine ten or tweleve orange chairs arrainged in a circle, with the happy woen from the flyer sitting at opposite ends. Only problem was, from day one, they weren't happy. Someone, whoever made that flyer, must have digitally turned their frowns upside down. They wrote about death. About the evilness of men. About the destruction of-and I quote- "the greenish, bluish orb with wisps of white." Seriously, that's how they descibed it. They went on to call Earth a knocked-up gaseous alien needing an abortion.

We both laugh. And it feels good. A release. Like laughing at a funeral. Maybe inappropriate, but definitely needed.

It's up to the reader to decipher the code, or the words, based on everything they know about life and emotions.

And here he is again, yet things feel like they'll never be as easy between us as they once were.

My heart and my trust were in the process of collapsing. And that collapse created a vacuum in my chest.