I thought I saw you yesterday. I always hoped that if I did, that it wouldn't matter. Instead I found myself running backwards over glass, cutting myself on you all over again.
I stopped in the curve, catching my breath as my feet got tangled in broken threads.
You did that thing where you shift your balance to your back foot and stare, and my spine snaps under the weight of how you look at me.
How you... looked at me.
But it wasn't you.
Only when I heard his voice did I know it wasn't yours. It was a different accent, no sweet curls of inflection.
I turned and peeled off the shards.
I looked ahead.
Like I always do,
Red ribbons at my feet.