As they caught their breaths, no one spoke; there was nothing left to say. ‘fuck me, what happened?’ she thought to herself, trying to grasp the intensity of the climax. “Go on,” Cheyenne urged softly from across the table, her curiosity piqued, her own voice barely above a murmur. His grief was a palpable shadow, but Cheyenne’s spirited energy seemed to cast light into the corners of his sorrow. The distance between truth and deception is measured in breaths and heartbeats. She watched Larry’s face, the flicker of shadows from the dim kitchen light playing across his features, revealing glimpses of vulnerability she’d never seen. She straddled him, her weight a grounding force, as if anchoring him to the present. He laughed when they did, nodded when he caught enough to react, his skin prickling beneath their glances, each brush of their voices stoking the fire inside him.
