Under the Clear Spanish Sky

“What is wrong, schat?” He asked. It was just a flash; a look of what appeared to be shock that flickered across Milou’s face like lightening in a dark sky and gone just as quickly. She closed the screen and put the cell phone away. “Nothing, Babe.” “How long have I known you, darling?” “No, really; nothing.” She said smiling brightly to sell it. He studied her face for a couple of seconds more but there was no trace of what was. “Ok,” Louis said letting it go” See you at eight right?” “Of Course, Honey.” He kissed her tenderly; meaningfully. She smiled; it was a relationship any girl could be content with. She watched through the window of the café as his well-built body strode across the street with ease. Milou Nekjyun sat in the café staring off in the direction that Louis had gone, sipping her coffee. Procrastinating, she played casually with her pastry but her appetite had left her. Finally, Milou reached in her purse and pulled out her phone. She needed to make sure she saw what she knew she had. She slide her phone open suddenly aware that she had no lock, she had never seen the point. Opening the popular social media app, which she joined just to raise her profile as a dancer, she swiped to the left where the users sent Private Messages to each other. Most of them were from her friends, a couple were spam but there at the top was a message as ominous as it was simple. The name of the sender was Sean Bores. His profile picture was a shot of him in a baseball cap and sleeveless shirt. She assumed most observers’ eyes would be drawn to his arms. They were beautiful specimens she knew from experience, perfectly sculpted by a mixture of equal parts gym, sport and construction. Her eyes, however, were drawn to the background, the baseball field he was standing on that he built in the countryside of the Dominican Republic for the kids that were playing on it over his right shoulder. The message sent was a simple dot. That’s all. The basic dot landed like a thud on her chest and raised her pulse. Such a ubiquitous punctuation mark used in nearly every sentence without even noticing it. Yet today, it was sentence, paragraph, chapter and if she was honest with herself, which she was not, stomach knotting excitement. That he even remembered her was its own form of flattery. She couldn’t help but to wonder if he thought of her as much as she did him. She doubted it. Milou smiled again shyly and stared out the window again until she had to be at rehearsal.

---

“You’re timing was really off today.” Emma said approaching her with a hop. Emma was always full of energy and life whether it was five in the morning or midnight. Milou wasn’t quite sure that she ever slept. “What’s going on?” Emma asked eyes wide with excitement for no apparent reason. Milou grabbed her hand and pulled her in the Hallway. She did a quick scan to see if anyone was in ear shot before she spoke. “He sent a dot.” Emma looked blankly at her friend, and then it registered. She did another little hop her green eyes growing as wide and tennis balls. “You mean Mr. Perfect?” “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.” Milou said. “Oh please, Mil. I have never met a man that was more made for you in my life.” Milou didn’t argue. Mainly because she had no counter. “What are you going to- We need a drink!” She exclaimed interrupting herself, “I’ll go get our bags” “No Emma we don’t need –“ It was too late. With the energy of a ferret on too many espressos she was off, back in the rehearsal space to retrieve their bags. Milou leaned her back against the wall, she let the coolness of the hallway try to ground her. She didn’t really want to bounce Ideas off Emma but she was the only one who was there. Plus her disposition towards Louis made the secret safe. Drinking wasn’t in her plans but that was Emma’s solution to most things, especially that which excited her, which was nearly everything. “Let’s go” Emma was saying emerging from the door carrying both of their bags. She moved down the hall at such a pace Milou nearly had to jog to keep up. They settled in a wine bar a few blocks over at a table for two away from everyone else. Not that many people were drinking at 2pm in Downtown Amsterdam but enough to make Milou nervous. “So can I see?” Emma eagerly asked after the waiter brought them two Chardonnays. Milou rolled her eyes. “It’s just a dot, Emma.” “Is it, though?” Emma countered in a playful tone, laughing quietly to herself. “My God ,” she continued, “’The winds of change blew in on the most inconspicuous breeze’”? She was quoting Sean’s latest book. Milou was immediately doubting her decision to involve Emma, she had an obvious bias but Milou needed to talk. Milou showed her the message “Mmhm” she said analyzing the punctuation mark as if there was something more to be gleamed from it. “So what are you supposed to do now?” Milou sighed. “One dot means he is coming to Amsterdam. I reply with two dots acknowledging that I received it.” “And then?” “He responds with the number of dots that equates to how many months until he comes. If its comas it’s weeks.” Emma considered this and then her smile grew larger. “So technically you can respond without committing to seeing him. You’re just acknowledging that you got the message.” “It’s a slippery slope, Emma.” “Oh that’s a silly expression. All slopes are slippery.” Milou was tempted to respond to that statement but decided against it. “I have a good life with Louis.” Emma didn’t respond to this, just sipped her wine conspicuously. A gesture which annoyed Milou more than anything she could have said. “Well this was what, five, six months ago when we were in Spain?” “Seven” “Ok Seven. What do you even remember? Weren’t you drunk?” In Truth Milou remembered everything, she was stone sober though she never told Emma that. She remembered exactly how he approached, his smile warm and inviting. His cologne smelled of summer at dusk and trouble. He told her she reminded him of someone but he never quite got around to telling her who. “I remember the look.” She said without thinking. “The look?” “He looked at me in a way I’ve never been looked at before.” “Not even by Louis.” Emma said pointedly. “Louis was sixteen when I met him, by the time Louis could look at me like that, we had been together some years.” Milou defended him. It was obvious Emma didn’t get this. “Meaning this was a look from a fully mature man,” What she actually meant was a look of unbridled desire and longing. Still, there had been something in Sean’s eyes beyond lust. The nightclub on the island they had been in boasted some of the hottest sexual conquest a man could want in all of Europe. Clothed in the most revealing attire allowed by law, which wasn’t much. Yet his eyes had never shifted from hers, never wandered despite overt attempts to get his attention by other women who had passed by. She and Louis still desired each other, but he would never look at her like that. “He never commented on the Weather.” “The weather?” “You know what I mean.” “I’m afraid-“ “The Typical things.” “Ok?” Emma more asked than stated still confused. “He never asked me if I was enjoying myself or how many times I’ve been to the island; my age ... the same questions I had answered fifty times that evening. I had to actually think to speak to him.” “I don’t really remember the conversations.” Emma said. This didn’t surprise Milou, Emma hadn’t been there. “I remember you guys dancing though.” She said with a knowing tone. Milou couldn’t resist smiling.

At the time she had pulled him into the crowd to dance; she was already smitten, soaked in his refreshing presence. He smelled of summer nights and questionable decisions; Milou was in a constant fight to keep the ship on course against the relentless waves of moral ambiguity crashing on her bow. She was frantically searching for what was wrong with him, trying to brush off the plenty that was right. Milou thought there was no way this adventurous writer could handle himself on the dance floor. She was wrong. She found herself being more drawn to him by a subconscious pull until ultimately her arms were draped around his neck. She breathed in his foolish scent, their bodies on one another moving effortlessly to the rhythm. She tried hard not to imagine that aroma on her sheets as the sun crept though windows like a thief stealing this night away. She didn’t know if his look had intensified or the way she regarded had changed but now she had the urge, rather the need to kiss him. She looked from his eyes to his lips then back again. Her body clamoring for a kiss more than her lungs clamored for air. She took one arm from around his neck and covered his eyes to try to break the spell. It seemed to provide some small respite but was hardly a permanent solution. Milou pulled away dancing with some space between them for a change. He obliged for just a few measures before slowly pulling her back in. She allowed him to; easily. She felt more comfortable in his embrace than out of it. ‘I can’t do this.’ She said out loud though mostly to herself. ‘Dance?’ He responded, ‘You can. Quite Well Actually.’ She laughed. “You know what I mean.” She said as he softly pulled her close again. "We’re just dancing.” They were doing anything but. She traced his arms with her fingertips. She wanted to wrap up in them like a blanket and she felt his hard chest against her breast. She once again made the mistake of holding his gaze; she instinctively leaned in to kiss him. He did the same, Milou tried to turn away but she felt like she was moving in quicksand her mind registered the command but her body was on a delay. She barely avoided it as their lips brushed. She buried her head in his neck slightly embarrassed at how excited a simple brush had made her. She turned slightly and kissed his neck, surely that was more appropriate then the lips she told herself. “I tried to save you when I pulled you outside.” Emma said downing the glass and motioning for another. “You were definitely about to make out with him.” A rare occasion of Emma not encouraging trouble. “I know. That was my opportunity to break away from him.” “So why did you grab his hand and drag him outside with you?!” Milou didn’t answer. She couldn’t tell her friend that she reveled in his company. That she figured as long as she didn’t kiss him she had broken no rules. At least that’s what she told herself.

Outside Emma’s bubbly personality made several new friends and they were once again alone, watching her bounce from group to group smoking cigarettes and stealing drinks, flirting at such a pace most guys missed the signals and ended up trying to reciprocate far too late as she scurried off to the next table that had bought her shots or called over to share a funny story or what have you. “I’m tired just watching this,” Milou said. “Seat?” Sean suggested, nodding to an open lounge chair to their left. To their right were two open seats, Milou raised her eyebrows at him, she knew he saw them also. “This will do.” He said ignoring her look and guiding her with an arm around the waist. She loved the way he took control while maintaining a low key demeanor. They fit perfectly into the single chair, his arm around her, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. They didn’t move the rest of the night. He spoke in metaphors and parables. She didn’t just listen intently, the smooth hum of his voice cutting through the madness surrounding them; she was captivated. They spoke of the future and their ambitions. Shared several lifetime goals, of which they held quite a few of the same. She couldn’t help but feel odd when he mentioned hang gliding past the Christ the redeemer in Rio. A feat she often imagined but would be too afraid to do alone and Louis would never. She nestled deeper into his arms drowning in their talks of life, love and all things of real substance. “I feel bad,” she finally said, “This is your last night on this magical Island. You should find a girl to take home for the night.” She insincerely proposed. Sean just smiled. “That’s easier to find than what I found.” “I, umm..” Milou trailed off. “I know you have a boyfriend.” He said casually unbothered by it all. A thoroughbred with blinders; one aim. “Right. So all of this is wrong.” She said gesturing to their current situation in the lounge chair her curled up practically in his lap his free hand caressing her thigh, “And me wanting to kiss you is horrible.” He said nothing. She looked up and locked eyes again. There was that look. What was it? Admiration? Need? Fascination? Milou couldn’t remember feeling so beautiful and wanted; was this what it was supposed to feel like or was it simply an illusion created in the cruel mixture of sand, saltwater and freedom. She leaned in offering her lips and he accepted gently, he tasted of Whiskey and danger. She slowly pulled away but instantly felt his persuasion infecting her, his lips laced with bad influence entering her blood stream. Separating her from her good sense. That’s where it happened. Under the effect of his persuasion and conversation, with his mellow tone guiding while his fingers traced the curves of her body; beneath the cloudless sky of the White Island. It was there in the shared Lounge chair that she allowed him to give life to this plot. The series of coded messages in punctuation marks. Innocuous enough they wouldn’t mean anything to Louis if he ever saw them. Sean never attempted to sleep with her she noted as he held the door of the cab. At that point, partly because she thought she would never see him again and partly because there was only so much she could take, she grabbed him and gave him a proper kiss. Her whole body felt alive as she pressed it onto Mr Sean Bores; her tongue caressing his. She finally got into the taxi and made it whole block before she told the driver to stop.

“Let’s just see when he coming.” Emma said picking up her phone up. “No!” Milou screamed panicking. Half of the wine bar turned to stare. Emma froze with a terrified look on her face, Milou could feel her cheeks turning red. “Ok baby girl.” Emma said carefully putting the phone down like it was an explosive device. “I- I just need to think.” Milou Stammered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” “Ok,” Emma nodded slowly still in shock. Milou left a few Euro on the table and headed out. “Milou!” Milou turned to see Emma bounding after her. “Just let me say this as a friend.” She said uncharacteristically serious. “You guys are...” The words were failing Emma she knew the idea she wanted to get across but she didn’t really know how to say it. Emma started over “…My mother would always tell me, there are only a handful of times where everything lines up perfectly. These are the only times you will always look back on frequently and either remember how your life changed or remember how you didn’t act.” “Ah but Emma, you go through guys like Sunday Laundry. You can’t be serious right now?” Milou was beside herself in total disbelief. “I never looked at a guy the way I saw you look at him.” Emma replied quickly. “Mom, would say that these are the only moments that really change us, … she would read me all the classic poems, this is what great poets would write about… these moments.” “And yet they all died alone.” Milou said, visibly finished with the conversation. Milou walked away with a half- hearted wave. She needed to clear her head. It only took a couple of blocks for her to come to her senses. ‘What Am I doing?’ She asked herself, ‘I have a good man! What has he done for me to even be considering this?’ Sure he’s made his mistakes; he was a man after all but nothing unforgivable. He was a good man. He had a good job, up for a promotion she noted to herself. Very attractive, takes great care of his body. Plus he loved her, what is there to think about? The rebuttal to herself came subtle and yet sharp. ‘And is that all there is?’ It was a legitimate question. Had she run the whole gambit already? She’d been with Louis since she was sixteen how did she know what its supposed to be like? Was this it? Was this Everything? A good Job, possible promotion and a nice body? Was this all the interest and passion life would offer her? Had she peaked? The stories Sean told her were filled with excitement and Adventure. You could hear the passion in his voice as he talked. Are those things not in the cards for me? She questioned. Her right mind came roaring back into the conversation. ‘What would you be giving up for this man? This whirlwind of adventure and passion? A real, long lasting love for something that could be in all likelihood a temporary thrill? That’s a dumb trade, Milou. You can make your own Adventures with Louis.’ ‘With, Louis?!’ Her second self quickly interjected. ‘Ok with our friends.’ They agreed Louis was a lousy travel partner. ‘What’s more he supports your true passion: dancing.’ “Yes,” she said out loud. It was the wise choice. There was no more argument. By the time she got home she was practically laughing at the thought, her great boyfriend was waiting.

---

Milou woke in the middle of the night uncomfortable. She was sweating slightly more than she was used to. She tried to remember the dream she was having that woke her, she recalled being in a beautiful house right on the ocean but when she tried to get to the beach she couldn’t get any of the doors open. Slowly she rose and sat on the side of the bed. She felt this terrible pressure on her chest. She had this from time to time. She practiced her breathing until it calmed. Unfortunately now she was up. She lay back in her bed waiting for sleep to come again. She thought about waking Louis up to have some fun but then she knew that he wouldn’t like that and she didn’t really feel like sex. Finally she picked up phone and went through her social media timeline until she finally landed on the one she had been not so subconsciously looking for this whole time. She opened his page glancing over at the still snoring Louis. There Sean was. She rarely ever came to his page. The few times she dared to it was as it was now. A smorgasbord of a high definition life she wasn’t living. Him diving off a cliff in some far off place with crystal clear bluish green water; him building an irrigation system in a war ravished town in Africa taking time out to put on an exhibition boxing match between himself and the tribe’s foremost Alpha. It was picture after picture of excitement and adventure and passion. How was it none of these things were on the horizon for her? She scrolled down until she was years in past, further than she had ever looked before. To her surprise she saw a woman in a number of the pictures from two years ago. Beautiful, blonde and obviously in love. She paused on one picture and enlarged it. It was a candid shot. They were at table in Old Havana. Cuban band playing in the background, mojitos in the foreground and the two of them laughing. It was the laugh that triggered the feeling of envy. Her laugh was so full that is forced her eyes closed. She looked at her smile, trying to imagine what could be so humorous. She was sure the woman wasn’t with him anymore but more pressing to her she was equally assured that the woman remembered every second of her time spent with Sean. Before she had the time to think better of it she went to her Messages and responded with her two dots. She made sure her ringer was turned off and went to sleep. When she awoke, there was a response. One dot. One month.

---

Sean Bores sat near the end of the bar at Café Gollem. The neighborhood was a bit South of Amsterdam’s city center called De Pijp. When he had arrived a little over an hour ago, the bar was mildly active. Now you could tell it was building up for a decent cocktail hour. An eclectic group of patrons filled the small pub only named a Café because it was in the Netherlands. “Mag ik deze stoel?” A gruff voice came over his shoulder. Sean turned to the man. His Dutch was horrible was but it was obvious the man wanted the seat next to his. He looked at his watch then back at the door. It was a little over an hour past the time they agreed to meet. “She’s all yours.” Sean replied making a bit more room for the young man. “Ah American?” He said in English squeezing onto the bar stool. “Yes.” “Here alone?” Sean huffed. “Not exactly how I planned it.” “How did you plan it?” “Supposed to meet a woman.” “Ah aren’t we all?” The man had a point. “Eventually.” Sean granted. “Well there are many women in Amsterdam, was she special? Your absentee guest?” “Incomprehensibly. The world could be crumbling and I wouldn’t notice if she was sitting here with me.” The man nodded knowingly. “So why isn’t she?” “I’m not sure. Loyalty maybe.” Sean paused for a beat to reevaluate. “Fear more likely.” “How’d you meet? Here in Amsterdam?” Sean adjusted in his seat to face the man. His features looked slightly Asian though the rest of him very Dutch. He was a handsome guy with a nice build, seemed pleasant enough, though he questioned whether or not this man could understand his plight; most did not view things how he did. However he was the only thing stopping Sean from feeling like an imbecile sitting at the bar alone. He ordered another round. “I met her on an Island, off the coast of Spain, like a proper fairy tale.” They shared a laugh. The Bartender came back with his beer. “I was in club; some of the most beautiful women in the world. I go outside to slip a smoke in the rear courtyard and there she was.” “Mm” “She was looking at her phone didn’t even see me.” Sean sipped from the new beer that had arrived. His excitement was growing just by telling the tale. “When she smiled the first time, small things started fading away. Slowly at first but when I spoke to her… Eventually it was just her and I; alone on the Island.” “Point of Fact?” “I mean let me tell you the last four days before I met her I had a different girl back to the Apartment; you know? Having the time of my life and that’s all business as usual.” He paused for another sip, “After her, I felt like I a had wasted four days.” “That different?” Sean gazed off into the distance. “We talked about Life and Love. Suffering and society. Together we could have fixed the world.” The man smiled skeptically. “At first I just wanted to keep the conversation interesting. Keep me interesting, you know?” Another sip as Sean turned back to the stranger, “But then I began to realize she wasn’t reading the script, She understood what I was saying.” “Script? Understood?” Sean had lost the man. “Most times we all play our part,” Sean explained, “Men and women at the bar. We stick to the scripts society provides; it’s all subconscious and instinctive really. No one challenges you anymore…the age of the great watering hole conversationalist might have died with Rat Pack, but this one? I could drink and talk all night.” “And yet she not here?” “No.” “Boyfriend?” The man asked. “Nobody’s perfect.” “But he wasn’t there?” “No.” “So did you take her home?” The question fell in the realm of acceptable guy talk for most but not for Sean. Especially not with a stranger. “A gentlemen would never tell you that.” Sean said jokingly trying to deflect. “Is that what you are? Waiting here for a woman that you know has a boyfriend. A gentlemen?” Sean looked at his new bar associate. His posture seemed to have turned slightly rigid and uncomfortable. He seemed offended that his question was blown off, maybe it was a cultural mistake. Sean had only been to Amsterdam a handful of times he couldn’t claim to know the Dutch thoroughly. “I try.” “When it’s convenient? Right?” The man pushed further staring intently in Sean’s eyes. Sean wondered if he was drunk. He hoped he wouldn’t have to put him down. He wasn’t in the mood for a brawl. Sean didn’t answer just held his stare. Sean’s phone beeped. A text from an unsaved Dutch number it read one word. ‘Sorry’. Sean had already put together she wasn’t making it but somehow actually reading the text made the whole thing more real. “Is that her?” Sean vaguely heard the rude man asked. Sean didn’t answer. The man with his inappropriate inquiries and scrutiny had ceased to exist. Sean wasn’t sure what he expected or how this rendezvous was going to play out. However, in his mind he was always assured that he would see her at least once more. Now it seemed unlikely. Suddenly the prospect of having to find someone like her loomed as a daunting and unwelcome task. “We did get engaged yesterday so she’s had a lot on her mind.” His bar mate said pushing himself back into the land of the relevant. The bar and Sean surroundings begrudgingly came back into focus. Sean just gaped back blankly at the man. “Don’t believe me? I have pictures on my phone.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, opened the gallery and offered it to Sean. Sean didn’t take the phone, he simply found a smile. “People won’t risk what is for what could be, Sean.” “No,” Sean agreed, “But they should.” He took several Euro from his pocket, laid it on the bar and rose to leave. Louis grabbed his forearm as passed. “Did she fuck you that night?!” He growled at Sean. He looked in Louis’s eyes. Baggy and ragged; unhappy. Not the look of a man who just got engaged to a deity. Had he proposed just to keep her? They had been together the better part of a decade and yet he proposes the day before they are to meet. In what was the desperation in his eyes rooted? Sean saw it then, in his perception, beyond the anger. He must have known that had she come tonight she would have never gone back to him; at least not all of her. Although if he knew that, then he should have been smart enough to know apart of them was still on that Island, laying under the cloudless sky. “Congratulations.” Sean said and pulled his arm free. “Sure.” Louis responded and returned to his beer.

---

The bell rang three or four times in rapid succession. The kids knew immediately who it was. “Auntie Emma!” Annie and Farris ran to the door their blonde hair whipping in the air behind them. “There’s my girls!” You could hear Emma scream from the front door. Milou, in the kitchen, could see Louis shaking his head on the couch as the glare of the TV coated his face in unnatural colors. This was his typical position and posture. He had grown less and less tolerant of Emma over the years. “What you brings us Auntie?” Milou heard Annie the three year old say. “Gifts from around the world.” Emma announced in a triumphant voice as she emerged from the hallway to the kitchen. “Yay!” The Four year exclaimed.

Emma looked great Mil admitted to herself. Perfectly toned in performance ready shape. Milou subconsciously pinched the layers of fat that had refused to leave her after the pregnancy. She adjusted her shirt. Emma had just returned from touring with Cirque du Soleil and as was her tradition she brought back gifts for the kids in every city she stopped at. After she spoiled them with gifts and rolled around on the floor with them, Emma forced Milou to come out for a glass of wine with her. It wasn’t a hard sell, Milou desperately needed some time out of the house. “Louis grunted at me during the commercial break this time. I think I’m growing on him.” she said sarcastically. “I wish something would.” They laughed. Emma took an awkward pause. “I got something for you too.” Emma said unsure. “Emma you know you don’t have to-“ “Wasn’t sure if I should give it to you.” Emma said somberly pulling a book out of her bag. “Is that-?” “Yes” “How’d you get it?” “He was at the show in Toulouse. He found me afterward, gave me an Early release copy.” Milou snatched the book from her hands. It had been their own little secret over the last four plus years. They would sneak and read Sean Bores books or shorts in cafés and her apartment. She would always have to hide them from Louis and when she was done she would store them in Emma’s apartment. Louis once caught sight of the collection of books and had not been back to Emma’s apartment since. Thus began the deterioration of Emma and Louis’ relationship. Milou held the book like her daughters held the new toys. She read the title. ‘Under the Clear Spanish Sky.’ Her eyes widened. “Is this-“ “I haven’t started it. Waiting on you.” She lied. Milou flipped the book open, the dedication page greeted her: ‘To the woman, who by her very existence, inspired my greatest search.’ “Let’s go to your place,” she immediately demanded. That night they read the entire book. It was a difficult task reading about the woman she used to be, knowing the woman she had become. More than once Emma asked her if she was ok. She was, she thought to herself. She had chosen the wise path. Who could have guessed the success that Bores would have become, not that it would have swayed her decision. Her and Louis were just in a rut right now. The pregnancy had derailed her dreams and the fact that they were both girls had derailed his. Sean was just a man with no kids Jet setting around the world. What woman wouldn’t have doubts, but it was nothing. The more she read though, the more it sunk in. The more it made sense why he was always in her head, why he had such a great influence in such a short period of time. She was taken aback at how mutual the feeling was. He described it as the poets that Emma always quoted. Referenced them as ‘a slap in the face of God or fate or whatever you chose to believe in’. Milou had no lengthy list of things in common to point to, it was rather a nagging feeling that whereas she had spent these last years growing apart from Louis, her and Sean would still be growing closer. Their paths were destined to merge and she ignored it. After realizing he can’t live without her the Main character in the book journeys to find her and whisk her away. She stands him up; in her stead he encounters a strange man. They talk at the bar. She didn’t know why but she instantly hated that man at the bar. The last thing the stranger said to the protagonist was ‘For all their talk of excitement and passion and independence, the majority of women are just terrified of making the wrong decision and ending up alone. Most women choose stability over the unknown, the status quo over risk.’ Milou completed the book well after midnight. Emma would barely meet her eyes. Milou knew she had read it. She knew Emma felt sorry for her. Unable to hold it any longer she curled up on the couch and cried in Emma’s arms. She felt lost and empty. Though mostly she felt regret as she should, regret being the main product of all cowardice