[ Her fingers tense, curling against the sides of the glass like fists meant to be thrown at something, someone-- only now the target is beyond reach and so she is left only with the coiled motion without hope of release. There should be a word for when you hold another person's hands, trusting that their weight would balance out yours as you spin and spin but then they let go. There should be a word for the fear that rushes through your heart the moment your hands grasp only air where there was once an anchor.
What surprises her is how easily the tears return, though she heeds them not, lets them roll down her face unnoticed. ]
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What surprises her is how easily the tears return, though she heeds them not, lets them roll down her face unnoticed. ]
His name is Hei.
[ Not Li Shengshun. Not was. ]
Did you know him?