[MF] Nothing Left to Say

He held the pack of cigarettes out to her, but he knew she’d decline. She’d given that habit up a long time ago. They zoned out of the gray noise of the traffic passing by them, time began to slow. It was a bleak sunday morning, the anniversary of an event neither of them could find the courage to recall.
	
They stood in silence, as if they occupied two different worlds. After all, there was nothing left for them to say. She looked down at him, she had always been slightly taller than he was. She couldn’t meet his upward gaze, like a weak magnet facing a stronger one, she found she couldn’t bring them close enough to meet. She wondered if he thought about their friendship anymore, but she could never bring herself to ask. Why would she? She didn’t particularly want to know the answer, anyway, nor did she think he’d even have one to offer. She wished she could express how much she cared about him without it coming off as desperate. She saw him take a long drag of his cigarette. The thick smoke filled his lungs, and as she watched, the back of her throat began to burn. It was a phantom pain that she couldn’t forget. Turning away from him, she shut her eyes tightly, trying to force the image out of her mind.

He wasn’t ever really sure how or why she ever forgave him for what happened - he didn’t really know how or why he forgave her, either. He held no malice, it was in the past - but he never knew if she was happy when he was around anymore. Something about her presence made him long for his perceived vision of happiness, the fictive memories of nights they never shared. He thought about the wedding - or to be more precise, the wedding cut short. Deep down, he knew that it could’ve gone more smoothly. They had some bumps in the road, but he never thought that it could go so wrong so quickly. He tried to translate his emotions into words, but he couldn’t. There was nothing left for them to say.

It occurred to her that the very place that they met was in a way a physical reminder of what happened. They had driven by here together a countless number of times: on their way to school, to the wedding.... No, she couldn’t think about it now. There were dozens of couples who came here to talk. She had to remain strong. She had brought flowers with her, the same kind she’d bought him so long ago. She dropped them on the ground in front of him and turned to walk away. Tears began to collect in her eyes: she wished she could stay to talk, but she knew she couldn’t. There was nothing left for them to say.
He stepped in front of her, but she seemed to walk right through him. He couldn’t help it: he leaned forward to kiss her. She kept walking, tears ran from her eyes. He tried to talk to her: he ran besides her as she walked back to her car. She didn’t seem to notice. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words, physically incapable of talking to her. He reached out his hand to place it on her shoulder, but it passed right through her.

Another car had pulled over behind hers, its owner seemed to be fixing a flat. She fumbled with her keys to unlock the door, Traffic raced by on the freeway as she got in and turned on the engine. She shot the roadside grave one more remorseful glance before she drove away. She wished she could just see him one more time, but she knew that it couldn’t happen. Besides, it had been so long since the accident - three years today - an anniversary, of sorts. What would they even talk about? There was nothing left for them to say.