You nodded, your fingers tracing the edge of the photograph. "You left early. Said you had a headache."
It Can Happen So Fast
"We shouldn't," I said, but my voice cracked on the second word. tara tainton it can happen so fast
"It can happen so fast," you whispered. Not a question. An acknowledgment.
It can happen so fast. One minute you're sorting through winter coats, and the next you're tangled on the floor with someone who's been a footnote in your life for years, suddenly becoming the whole story. Your back presses into the carpet, and her weight settles over you, and you realize you've been hungry for this without knowing it. You nodded, your fingers tracing the edge of the photograph
I was helping you clean out the hall closet—an innocent task, a favor between people who had known each other for years. Neighbors. Friends. The kind of relationship with safe, predictable boundaries.
This was the moment. The cliff edge. I'd played it out in my head a hundred times—what I'd say, how I'd resist, how I'd protect the careful architecture of our friendship. But theory and reality are different beasts. "It can happen so fast," you whispered
"It was a good day," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.