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Before The Horizon Learned Our Names
The gate closed with a muted chime and her hand slid from mine so gently that for a moment I believed it was accidental until the pressure was gone and my fingers curled around nothing. The light between us thickened into glass and her face fractured into reflections that would not meet my eyes. I said her name too late and it fell into the space where sound no longer mattered. The platform exhaled as systems recalibrated and a low vibration traveled up through my boots into my ribs. Around me travelers shifted and spoke in subdued voices as if instinctively aware that something irrevocable had just occurred. Grief did…
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After We Learned The Speed Of Goodbye
The train door slid shut between us and his fingers slipped free of mine with a softness that felt like mercy only because it was already too late to stop it. The platform lights flickered as the engine powered up and his mouth shaped my name without sound while the glass filled with our reflections instead of answers. I stood there with my hand raised long after the train began to move because lowering it felt like agreeing to the loss. The wind from the tunnel arrived a moment later carrying heat and dust and the smell of metal worn smooth by repetition. Around me people shifted bags checked watches…
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The Moment The Stars Forgot Us
The ship undocked without sound and his fingers slipped from mine as the artificial gravity shifted leaving my hand suspended in the air where his warmth had already begun to fade. The viewport sealed itself with a dull shimmer and his face vanished into reflected light and I understood before I could stop myself that whatever we had been brave enough to imagine was already behind us. I did not cry. I only stood there listening to my pulse slow into something survivable. The departure alarm chimed softly too gently for what it marked and the station lights dimmed to evening as if nothing irreversible had just occurred. I pressed…
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The Place Where Time Learned To Stop
The message arrived after the window had already closed and her name pulsed on the screen like a mistake that could not be undone so I stared at it until my reflection replaced it and even then I did not move. The lab was quiet except for the low thrum of containment fields and my hands were shaking in a way that felt delayed as if my body had learned the truth before my mind agreed to it. I pressed play knowing it was already too late and her voice filled the room thin and altered by distance. She was breathing hard. There was light behind her so bright it…
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Where The Light Waited For Us
The door sealed with a soft breath and her name left my mouth a second too late so it fell to the floor between us unheard and useless. My hand was still lifted toward the narrowing gap when the metal met metal and the warmth that had been hers disappeared as if it had never learned me. The corridor lights shifted to night cycle and the quiet pressed close enough to bruise. I stood there longer than the protocol allowed because movement felt like agreement with what had already happened. The station hummed around me a living thing continuing without pause and I understood that loss did not require witnesses.…
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What Remains After The Signal Ends
The last transmission ended with his breath caught mid word and the screen went dark before I could answer so I kept speaking into the silence until my voice learned there would be no reply. The room smelled of warm circuits and dust and my fingers hovered above the console like they could pull him back if they stayed long enough. Somewhere beyond the dome the tide lamps dimmed and the city slipped into night without noticing what it had taken from me. I sat there until the ache in my chest softened into something heavier and more permanent. Loss did not arrive with drama. It settled like a second…
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After The Porch Light Went Out
When the porch light clicked off behind him and left the steps in shadow, Helen understood that the goodbye she had practiced in her head would never be spoken. She stood just inside the doorway with her hand resting against the doorframe, listening to the space where his footsteps should have continued and did not. The night air drifted in carrying the smell of damp earth and cut wood from somewhere down the road. A moth brushed the screen and moved on. Helen did not reach for the switch. Darkness arrived gently and stayed. Grief followed before she could decide what to call it. The house settled around her in…
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The Place Where Waiting Learned To Breathe
When the train doors slid shut and her reflection replaced his in the glass, Ruth understood that the question she had been carrying for years had already been answered without her consent. She stood on the platform with her hands wrapped around the strap of her bag, watching the train pull forward inch by inch as if reconsidering and then choosing not to. The metal groaned softly. Warm air rushed past her knees. Someone laughed farther down the platform and the sound felt misplaced. Ruth did not wave. She kept her eyes on the glass until his face was gone and only her own remained, pale and unsure, looking back…
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The Hour The Bells Forgot Us
When the church bell rang without him standing beside her and the sound spread into the cold morning air alone, Anna knew the promise she had never asked for had already been broken. She stood on the stone steps with her gloves folded in her hands, watching the empty street where his shadow should have been. Frost clung to the railings and softened the edges of everything it touched. The bell finished its slow toll and fell quiet. People moved past her with bowed heads and murmured greetings. Anna did not answer. The loss settled first before any reason could reach it. It pressed into her chest with the weight…
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Where The River Keeps Its Silence
When the oars rested against the dock and did not return to the water, Claire knew the crossing she had been delaying had already ended without her. She stood on the riverbank with her boots half sunk into damp sand, watching the small boat drift just far enough away to make reaching it impossible. The morning light lay thin and gray across the water. A bird called once and then fell silent. The smell of wet wood and algae filled the air. Claire did not call his name. She felt the loss arrive whole and heavy before any clear reason formed to meet it. The river moved on without urgency.…
