Lion Head Mesa I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving; I'm your little scarlet, starlet

He was hurting her. This was HURTING her. Why did he hurt her? Why was he hurting her? For him, she left. In his steps, she followed him forward through passing suns and cold moons. For every ten breaths taken, they breathed life back into the other's lungs. Never together, never apart. Even in work, they were never separated. She was never alone. Why was he leaving her alone? He was leaving her alone. He was leaving her?

Alone.

She felt heavy. He felt heavy.

At his face, and his eyes set away from her, she looked to him with a wrinkled maw and piercing eyes. He was distant. Maybe if she did this, he would turn to her. Maybe if she disgraced him, he would look at her. Maybe if she demanded so, he would stay with her longer, even if to only tell her that he wouldn't. She felt it slip away. She felt it fail. She tried again, teeth bare and lips so close to his throat. Should she have wanted to, she could have endlessly torn flesh from his skin. Could have mauled his body in return for hers, because then he was not leaving.

She did nothing.

It had been his eyes to stop the display. Because somewhere in the deep truths of reality, where her mind would not touch and she was far from accepting, she would not hurt him.

Even if she wanted to, so that he would not leave her.

This was not familiar.

Her gums immediately fell loose. As if she had forgotten those eyes, she stared at them dead beforehand. Cold, unnoticing, refusing to acknowledge them with the might she placed within them. But then, it was as if she saw them. Saw him. Saw life. And before him, she melted away and sifted between his fingers. As if she never had spoken word of defiance. Her nose twitched, and her head plopped over. She sat perfect. The calm was sickly.

"When will you come back?"