and now for ryan

running without moving, struggling through a constant wash of marsh and time, ryan fell out of bed the second time that night.
and still no Al.
not next to her, not in the pocked-sized beep of her phone and not even at the back of her mind. that voice that persisted through daylight and dream had silenced itself, shut off with a click to nights ealier. shut off like it

died

was turned off by an unseen hand, a raucous dream turned silent nightmare.

these nightmares kept her rolling out of bed each night. Al’s silence echoed off ryan’s dreamscape, louder than her words had ever been. pieces of her hung off walls, ribbons of want and memory that stagnated in only 48hrs, not used to the quiet and the stillness

dON’t

was the message that flashed in her eyes, relentless and rotten.

ryan kept her phone under her pillow so her whole body would know when Al needed her.

wanted her

which was almost every night these days. she was just on the verge of complaining

                                          soccer
                                                                                       track
                                                               arabella
                                                                                                             the campaign
when

dON’t

happened. 4AM, not yet dawn, she had just given up, her blue eyes flickering under lotus petal lids.