flew me to places I've never been
Everest blinked slowly, the gesture unhurried and unreadable. "I know he doesn’t," he murmured, voice even. "That’s part of what makes it harder. When someone offers something freely, without condition, it’s more difficult to say no without creating imbalance in a different direction." There was no resentment in it—just an observation, turned over in his mind like a coin being examined for authenticity.
He didn’t look at her, but the shape of her words—the phrasing, the tonal cues—was enough for him to clock the shift in the conversation. The soft descent. The closing. His breathing slowed in preparation. "You might," he said, of Torchline, the syllables faint and precise. "It’s hard to predict, but I’ll try to let you know ahead of time if that’s the case. I don’t like… surprises." A pause, small but taut. "But you know that."
His hands adjusted the cup on the table one final time, rotating it so the handle pointed exactly outward. Then he folded his hands again, resting them carefully on his thighs.
"Thank you for coming," he said. "I hope your flight home is smooth."
He meant it; of course he did. But like everything else since she'd arrived, the words sat too neatly on the surface—neither cold nor warm, only constructed, like a house built with all the right tools but none of the furniture inside.
~FIN
He didn’t look at her, but the shape of her words—the phrasing, the tonal cues—was enough for him to clock the shift in the conversation. The soft descent. The closing. His breathing slowed in preparation. "You might," he said, of Torchline, the syllables faint and precise. "It’s hard to predict, but I’ll try to let you know ahead of time if that’s the case. I don’t like… surprises." A pause, small but taut. "But you know that."
His hands adjusted the cup on the table one final time, rotating it so the handle pointed exactly outward. Then he folded his hands again, resting them carefully on his thighs.
"Thank you for coming," he said. "I hope your flight home is smooth."
He meant it; of course he did. But like everything else since she'd arrived, the words sat too neatly on the surface—neither cold nor warm, only constructed, like a house built with all the right tools but none of the furniture inside.
~FIN
but now I'm laying on the cold hard ground
