“It crept up toward him, the half-thought becoming heartfelt: Swim. The longer he remained at her side, the more ashamed he felt for having felt the way he did. Her fault? He couldn’t be sure she was anything but perfect. The longer they fought the waves, floated against the current, the more he could almost believe that he really could swim. He had been barely able to stay afloat during those days, when a heartbeat acted as backdrop to his prize, her. He stretched all the dollar signs as far as... they could go, fed the edge of all fashion with imaginary currency. All for her, and yet he never felt like he was doing anything but drowning.Swim. He had only the blue of the water, perhaps matching the blue of those borrowed eyes, around him to distract from what cannot be done. Just like him to believe that only he could apologize, that only he was at fault.To hold on, there had to be another ledge. Of course the lonely ledge would be the one of a lover unwilling to let go. But see where this is going?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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