You start out in a weak way. That's solid. I don't feel the muscle strain anymore. I split skin on knuckles; the bite and sting don't bother
I worked for all that striving. Is he here? Yes, and gone. Far along, on the tip of my tongue; and then there it is, there he is, perched on his alter out of reach.
Looking through me! I don't say a word! I'm in awe and it hurts. Jaw clenching and I make fists. Then the strain is back as if it had never gone.
It's solid, that gap measured out, I cannot see the edges. They blur with a kind of hate I can't describe.
There I go, fast but slow. Far and out, he's in front, close enough to touch. There is no glimpse of anything in his eyes, just a vague reflection. I see steel, hold my breath and wait.
Once upon a time, there was trust in this boy, unrelenting and solid.
I bite back tears, it seems slow going now. I think on what I said to him, when he left me, when he left me laid out and cold. The bench was solid too, but it hurt.