ENCOMPASS
surround
Lux thinks about Jinx often. She doesn't know when it started or how. But she'll be walking down the street, see something like a toy or a machine part, and think man, Jinx would love that. It's even worse when she looks at people, like specifically couples. Those moments are the worst because she'll spot a couple, sitting at a cafe, sharing dessert, and the sheer want that fills her is both staggering and terrifying.
She'll run home then, lock herself in her room. But there's no escape. A strand of blue hair will be sitting on her pillow. A neon colored sock will turn up under her bed. There was a memorable time when she opened her favorite book to find "Jinx was here" scribbled all over it. At that point, Lux just threw her head back and laughed till she couldn't breathe. Then she went right on ahead and re-read the book, again and again. She'll thumb over the doodles, the strike outs, the comments on the margins, the parts where Jinx outright re-wrote the text. Lux gives her credit because sometimes it's an improvement. And she kept that book on her nightstand, to be the first thing she sees in the morning and the last thing she sees before going to sleep.
She lies, of course, when she says she doesn't know how it started. Lux knows. Lux knows very well the hows, the whys, and the wherefores. She won't admit it. She'll lie to herself, distract herself, outright slapping herself to avoid it. Not out of fear but some twisted sense of self preservation, an instict telling her doom lies that way. Except she's never been afraid of death or danger. She just doesn't want this, them, whatever they are, to end. So, she'll pick up the sock, toss out the hair, and think of no one, no one at all.