-Vaughn Blackmore:
My wrists sting even after he lets go.
Not enough to hurt, not enough to leave anything behind—just enough that I can still feel where his hands were, like the pressure hasn't fully faded yet. I don't move right away. For a second, I just stay there, back pressed to the tree, breathing a little heavier than I want to admit, trying to steady something that doesn't want to settle.
Then I pull away.
Slow at first. Controlled.
I push off the tree, shoulders straightening as I take a step back, then another, putting space between us like it actually means something. Like distance can undo what just happened. My hands drop to my sides, flexing once, twice, as if that will get rid of the lingering sensation.
It doesn't.
My eyes go straight to the phone again.
Still in his hand.
Still the center of everything.
"Delete it."
This time my voice is quieter.
