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In her blood.


He's there, in there, she can feel him with her every moment. 


A cancer, a disease, an infection.


A cure, a drug, a fix.


It feels like there's never been a time he hasn't been inside her veins. She can admit it only now in her solitude.

 

A disease that is slowly killing her. 

 

She dreams of a deathbed revelation, telling him everything about herself. Every feeling, every mistake.


After her nightly wine bottle, she dreams of his presence. He's watching her, studying her, learning every detail about her with complete fascination. He can't take his eyes off her, eyes filled with love. 


Like hers. Like her brain. Full of him, all the time. 


She saw him once, about to park her car to meet a friend for lunch. Instant panic and thrill sent her heart racing out of her chest. He's real. He's alive. He's not just a shadow in her head. 


She could almost reach out and touch him. So close. So far away. He never saw her. 


She's forgotten what hope feels like. 



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