She existed in her friends; there she was. All the parts of herself she'd forgotten. She knew herself best when she was with them.
Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Her memories were a prison. The people she loved. She couldn't get away from the hurt of them. She could leave Eric, walk out of her apartment, walk forever if she liked, but she couldn't escape what really hurt. Tonight even the sky felt like a prison.
There were those emotions down there, and though she couldn't quite feel them, they were strong and she feared them. It was like watching a thunderhead from high up in a plane, and though you weren't under it, you knew how it would feel if you were. You knew you'd have to land eventually.
She'd cried over a broken heart before. She knew what that felt like, and it didn't feel like this. Her heart felt not so much broken as just ... empty. It felt like she was an outline empty in the middle. The outline cried senselessly for the absent middle. The past cried for the present that was nothing.
Lena always described how she dreaded and mourned things before they even happened. Carmen was beginning to suspect that she was permitting herself to mourn this long separation only now that it was over.
All I could think to do was love her. That's all a person can do.
She hadn't chosen the brave life. She'd chosen the small, fearful one.
We forgive and forget. At least I forgive and he forgets.
She went around with a broken heart, and she wasn't sure who'd broken it. She thought it was herself, mostly.
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