Part Two: Aftermath of Sin
Word Count: 330
Every time he turns around he finds another one.
There are long blonde hairs everywhere, tokens of that night and that morning. He can recall with clarity the way he awoke tangled in the strands of hair, the way the silence was awkward and pervasive, the way they made no attempt to fill it.
He can't, however, remember how she got there, or what the hell he was thinking. He wishes he could explain it but the answers do not come, no matter what he does or how hard he concentrates.
So he resigns himself to picking the souvenirs out of the sheets and the carpet, wincing every time he touches one. The seemingly-innocent looking hairs are not unlike their owner; bringing inexplicable and unpleasant change into his life.
The sharp shock, like touching a live wire, only lasts as long he holds the hair, but it's almost enough to make him want to hate her.
Almost.
Not that he'll ever see her again.
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She runs all the way home.
Her skin is tingling-she can't explain it any other way-and no matter what she does she can't erase the fleeting image of his eyes. Ridiculous. Stupid. She has a whole host of problems already; how had she ended up with him? Why had she…why would she…dear God, if her parents ever…she pushes the thoughts away.
First, she must devise a suitable lie. Then, she must forget it ever happened.
It seems a good plan. Doesn't it? Simple. Elegant. Totally unlike her. She arrives at home, goes upstairs and fends off her mother and father and brother and cat. She wears the brooch at the feline's insistence.
She falls into her own bed, trying not to think of anything, but her dreams are full of loud music and drunken college students and badly placed door jambs and the consequences thereof.
She wakes up every morning from that fateful day and realizes an awful truth.
She misses him, and he is a stranger.
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