Mattersville

I can’t tell if he’s afraid. He’s been looking at me with this expression that hints that my lips have been moving but nothing has reached his ears. That, or he isn’t phased.

“Alright, Elle. Do what ya gotta do,” Liam shrugs. He gets up off his tattered couch and opens the front door, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket as he leans against the frame. The only indication that he might be nervous is the slow drag he takes on the cigarette.

Liam doesn’t need to smoke. Something I’ve often envied. When I used to smoke, I’d throw my whole force into it. My whole being would focus on when I’d have another smoke. I’d have sex just to have the cigarette afterwards. I’ve watched the way Liam picks up and drops smoking as he pleases over the years and felt a pang. I know I can’t pick it up again.

“Alright,” I reply, confidence (if a little feigned) in my voice.

“I’ll catch ya round.”
I pick up my bags and my shoulder brushes against Liam’s chest as I walk out the door into the glaring sun.