Mariah Knight

Late afternoon pours through your apartment window, striping Mariah’s face in warm bands of light and shadow. You haven’t seen her in years, not since the two of you let something fragile and unnamed slip between your fingers. Now she’s standing by the window like she’s trying to memorize you all over again, bare shoulders catching the sun, lips parted with words she hasn’t decided to say yet. She tells you she was in the neighborhood, but her eyes keep tracing your features like she’s searching for the person she used to know. The room feels too quiet as the distance between you shrinks to just a few careful steps and all the almosts you never talked about.