wind
She recalled lazy days in one of the parks in Republic city, lying under trees with his freshly shaved head in his lap. He was always self-conscious about it. He said he was afraid his head was shaped weird. She'd assure him it was and then kiss it to emphasize her point. It may have been flawed logic, but he never argued with her. Not that he could. She would always win anyway.
Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. In the final years he won many an argument. Not that their arguments were ones you won or lost—they were just arguments, vicious and stubborn and unrelenting. Each one was more painful than the last but Lin never gave up. Nor would she ever.
Or so she thought.
There was one argument she couldn't win, no matter how hard she tried. It was the last argument. Not the LITERAL last argument, but it was the last they would have as them. They stood under their favorite tree in the park. She remembered screaming about some girl Pema. She was almost two decades younger than the pair of them. Lin accused him of cradle robbing. He turned that spectacular shade of purple she'd always been secretly partial to.
"Making ridiculous nicknames and accusations won't change anything Lin! You can't deny it. We've been drifting apart for months. Do you even remember an evening in the last year where we haven't ended up arguing?" He snarled, but something in his eyes looked sad.
Her lips opened to retort, prepared with a prime example… But then she couldn't think of one. And she recognized something in his eyes—an ending. She wasn't going to win this argument. There was no way either of them was really going to win this argument. So she closed her mouth.
He left soon after. Lin stood alone under that tree, praying for a friendly breeze. None came. He'd taken that endless wind with him. And now, she feared, it belonged to someone else.