It felt like she was never here to stay, temporary in the way a sunset slips beneath the skyline. She always had one foot out the door, always glancing over my shoulder, watching, waiting for her cue to leave. She moved like she had an itch, shifting back and forth like there was a pebble in her shoes.
It took me a while to realize she was the pebble. She was the one out of place, restless and eager and itching for something she thought she almost had once. She couldn’t name it, but she knew it was out there somewhere. And maybe that’s why it hurt when she looked at me. Maybe that’s why it hurt her to look at anyone she loved, why it was hard for her to look in mirrors.
Whatever it was she was searching for, none of us could give it to her. There wasn’t a damn thing any of us could do to fulfill her, nothing we could say to make her stay. She was just passing through- a shooting star I poured my wishes into knowing that they wouldn’t come true.
Photography by Abigail Saturday