June

It’s been minutes and he hasn’t said anything. He just flicks the last of the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his shoes, then he leans back against the wall, giving off the air of someone with endless time.

I stand there, arms folded, staring at him, waiting for… something, a word, a protest or maybe even a sharp dismissal. Anything to prove that this wasn’t just a meaningless game to him. That he doesn’t want me to end it. Even if it isn’t because he cares, at ...