There are two at the bar. Empty glasses between them and one sits still half full in front of her. It’s hard to tell, from here, but his hands are painful from resisting hers. They sit just right; far enough apart to be friends and close enlightening together to close any gaps that they think are wide enough to fool a passer by.

She’s laughing at something he has said. Deep in her throat. It rolls out of her. A sound and a promise. A brand that hits his soul and he searches around for something to say to make it happen again. It’s all he has. This moment, ones like it. His smile fades and she notices and her laughter dies wondering if it was too loud, too big. They turn back to the drinks.

We turn away. It’s hard to look. So we don’t. I touch his hand instead. Glad for it’s warmth. Glad for his smile. Glad we aren’t there. With the spaces waiting to be filled. The spaces now are a promise, like her laugh. Undying, these spaces. She gets up to leave; takes her coat this time. I nod and grab my keys. We go. They stay and I see the two men talking. More bourbon in the glasses. Winter on my face.

It’s so easy to forget how to love.

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