Gerty and Byrd
Her touch was foreign, but familiar. Comfortable, but cold. He had a resonance within him that said he had seen this place before, but did not belong. “We’re both on top of the world right? And even if we aren’t, we’ll just lie and pretend we are to make things seem easier,” she sobbed with a forced smile, teary eyes, and smudged makeup. He responded, “Just like always,” in a frank but cryptic way that seemed to purely articulate the simple sigh he held in his chest. What he would have done to have her, but a different her, was unfathomable. However, as much as he felt the absence, he would not allow himself to miss the imaginary. He would not see her. He would not speak to her. He would not acknowledge she existed and eventually she wouldn’t. Like his 3rd grade crush Erica, who could be anywhere at this point and matters nothing to his life. 1 year in 80 is nothing, a drop of water in a glass full. He would move on and leave her to her life. But he lied and said they could work on being friends because her solace was more important for the moment. He lied to make things seem easier. Just like always.
