They yell at her, blame her for the lead. She's playing cards and forgets how to add. He holds the king, the card she needs to get her release number. Sift through the deck. Hundreds of cards are before her. She sifts frantically, stopping long enough to kiss the lips and remember that's not her card. So they blame her for tears and a faulty hand. Try harder this time but she just gets farther from the truth. Movies remind her what she needs to do. She probably won't win the game but a train and new city will give her the king back. She's hopeful. Romantic. Pictures it perfectly. Standing across the street so that he can't see her. The first time she mutters a mans' name, feels foreign in her mouth.
Dry throat, scared girl, no certainty. But she wants to dive. They all say it's too far, too high, she won't survive. Knees shaking, crumbling beneath her. She stands across from him with no strength. It will end in more tears and he'll probably steal the rest of the deck from her when she's looking. But she has to know, see him.
Her throat chokes as his picture comes to the surface. Hasn't seen him since nineteen. She doesn't want to go outside tonight.
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