It was nothing more than memories, lingering softly at the edges of my mind, entwined in the filigree of my senses. I closed my eyes, letting them wash over me; recollections of a trespasser who stole my heart and gave it back in tatters.
I welcomed the pain, relished the familiar clench in my stomach. It was good to be reminded that I could still feel.
The harsh calls of the seagulls pulled me from my reverie. The chill seeped into my bones as I sat in the sand. My fingers were numb and the cold tracks of tears marked my cheeks. I swiped the back of my hand across them, erasing the evidence, if not the reality, that some wounds never heal.
- from Midnight Train (working title)
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