“You’re not vulnerable with me anymore.” I listened to the wobbly voice on the other end of the line, the garbled static of whatever bar crowd rushed behind it, and a warm feeling of frustration dropped into my gut like a stringy lump of half-melted American cheese. What a stupid thing to say. “Are you…

The ground is hard as brick beneath him, and as cold. Grass like so many long, frosted feelers pricking at his legs through his jeans. Breeze brisk and biting playfully at the soft skin of his cheeks until they turn to rosy pink apples. He watches her across from him, watches the wind whip her…