[ such a frank question. and she wants to respond with a frank answer -- but her chin dips, and her eyes look anywhere but him. thoughtlessly (or else with too much thought altogether) her fingers find her left pocket. there's something there, creating a narrow line in the fabric.

an empty vial. she carries it with her in secret -- even now. ]

I realized how holding onto the past can endanger those in the present. Unfairly. If I wanted to live by even half the example he'd left behind, I realized I couldn't let myself be distracted by...wants. Old wounds.