“She’s the only one that sees me,” she said. “You don’t see me, anymore.”
“I see you when I choose to see you,” I said without feeling. “It isn’t the same thing as not seeing you at all.”
In the palpable tension of the moment that followed, they ripped apart – and this dialogue was a shouting match across the chasm. It wasn’t a disparity. They would always be equals. The collective consciousness of their empathy would make sure of that. Only the uproar would remain, until one of them chose to walk away, the distance deceiving them that it was passed – proof positive that wishes come true. But time, not distance, was the salve they sought for. Only time would tell.
