"What did Alec do this time?" I ask [her] over my shoulder, not caring to look back, but continuing to brush the young horse's flank with long, slow strokes.
"I can't believe you still remember that," she comments, leaning against the wooden stall. "I guess he's just... not here?"
And when I turn to meet her face, just her sight steals all the breath from my lungs, breaking my heart a thousand times.
She's wearing her usual jeans, a white hoodie, and a deep green t-shirt. A pair of worn brown boots tells me she took a tour of the shed where we've been storing anything useful for the stables. And her black curls are tied up in that samurai-style bun that makes her cheekbones even more striking.
She is my friend, I keep repeating to myself, she is my friend and I can't do this to her.
And the look in her dark eyes, the melancholy and the care written there, the sight of that slight blush on her brown skin... every single thing she doesn't say makes me feel like the worst person in the whole universe.
Not just because of the bad joke about my brother.
"I'm... I'm sorry," I stutter. "That was lame of me."
"Agreed," she concedes, but at least a ghost of a smile dances on her lips. "In your defense, I didn't expect to get so sentimental just by being here. It's been... so long..."
And she's right.
It doesn't just seem like an eternity since the last time she was here with me in this very stable. It has been an eternity. Almost two decades, I have to remind myself. A whole lifetime ago.
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—Becks
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What do you think? Is she Becks? The sad, caring woman with the samurai bun? 😏4Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡI0PLjDXXws
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