you said you'd meet me at the cafe.
6 p.m.
same one we always went to.
the one that smelled like old paper and second chances.
I got there at 5:45.
early.
ordered black coffee.
no sugar, no cream—your favorite, not mine.
waited.
smoked one cigarette.
then two.
fifteen minutes passed.
no Hazel.
I didn't check my phone.
I never did.
phones made me anxious.
thirty minutes in,
I finally pulled it out.
one message.
"Grey, I had an accident."
sent at 6:01 p.m.
and I—
froze.
my heart fucking stopped.
not because I thought you were dying.
not because I thought you were fine.
but because I didn't know what the hell to do.
do I call?
do I text back?
do I go to you?
no.
no.
I didn't.
I just stared at that one fucking sentence.
your name on the screen.
those words.
I smoked another cigarette.
then another.
until the pack was empty
and the sky turned black
and the barista turned off the lights.
9:12 p.m.
I was still sitting there.
you were hurt.
and I did nothing.
I didn't even reply.
because I was too afraid.
because I didn't want to prove how much I cared.
because that would've meant
everything I was trying to deny…
was fucking true.