When she was a child, she'd always promised to be home by the time the streetlamps lit up.
Memories of her youth come flooding back to her as the lights flicker on through the hazy hues of dusk.
She checks her watch. 4:38 PM. The December sun sits low on the horizon as she shoves her hands deep in her pockets, and makes her way from the 258th Street bus stop.
I'll never let anyone else have you.
Even 12 years after her passing, her mother's vow still resonates with her.
When a romantic dalliance had reached its winter—only just too close for comfort—she'd begin to hear it. It would start as a gentle hum, and then crescendo into a loud, industrial buzzing. Too intolerable for her to ignore. Too strong for her to fight.
They hardly exchange words anymore-just room keys and hurried breaths. To an outsider, it might seem cold. Like sex between them had become a transaction to complete, when in fact, that couldn't be further from the truth.
It's only sex.
She tells herself this as his lips caress her skin, and her pulse races.
But it's not. It never was.
Still, some part of her needs to believe that she can still cling to what they had back when he was everything she had.
But who is she kidding? He's still everything to her. If anything that's grown even more clear since he left the Unit.
It's what keeps her from running.
I'm your partner. For better or worse.
He kisses her softly just below her navel, and looks up into her eyes for a brief moment before continuing.
As his lips meet the juncture of her thighs, the moment of surrender passes. Her eyes slip shut, and her hand finds the back of his head as she tries to remember the days before this became her new normal.