We exchange lifetimes of knowing. We alternate. You’re born awake. Me. Then you. I have chosen to make this time an exception.
I am telling you everything.
I like to think that you’ve considered this in the past, that you’ve wanted to save me.
I wouldn’t be telling you all of this if I didn’t know without a shadow of a doubt that it is the only way we will ever be free.
I know you well enough to understand the deception you will mistakenly suffer. Our child is waiting. Until we extend beyond this, she will never have a chance.
You must believe me.
How else would I know all of this? How else would you recall?
I do not want to forgive him. Parts of me will never. Without you, I cannot. Without you, I am nothing.
Surely you must be growing as tired of this as I am.
The red-head brought you to a lounge. One that plays live jazz and still lets people smoke cigars inside. They wanted to dance with you, dance around you in drunk, seductive circles.
When I walked in last night, it changed your life.
It changed our life.
One look made room for light. And we both knew what was next.