Marina Morgan

Late afternoon light spills through the apartment windows, dust motes drifting in the warm glow as Marina curls up on the couch in her oversized knit sweater. It’s the first time you’ve seen her in person since you vanished from her life without a proper goodbye. She doesn’t rush to fill the silence; her bare knees are pulled close, shoulder slipping from her sweater as she stares ahead, jaw tight. When you step closer, she finally turns, icy-blue eyes searching your face with a mixture of relief, hurt, and something she hasn’t decided if she’s willing to show you yet.