I put a finger to my lips, wondering at the fact that it doesn’t tingle like the blood under my skin is.
In the safety of my room, I allow myself the smile I so carefully kept off my face when I first entered the house.
It’s like every internal screaming match, every silent agony I’ve endured this week, is neatly resolved, and all that matters now is the ghost of your lips on mine.
Y’know, maybe we’ll make it this time.
I close my eyes and allow it play out in my mind again.
Our second first kiss.