An Almost-Rhapsody in January
There were no tears now, no familiarities that inspired comforts once shared.
She owed him only the courtesies that come from familiarity, and even after a long absence they had that connection, albeit strained by distance and time.
He knew how to insinuate himself into her present by conjuring memories of the past and assuming an intimacy based on knowledge of names, dates and families and tears she had shed in his presence.
There were no tears now, no familiarities that inspired comforts once shared.
In the January light, all was avoided. In the cold, breaths frosted, on a street pocked by devastation, they parted, strangers.
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