[ It … helps. Somehow. Kind of. Doesn't do anything for the guilt churning like knives in her gut, and she still wants to spin on heel and run, but between the knowledge that he'd just get up and follow her, and the fact that right now he's sitting there … she can breathe. ]
[ She can breathe. ]
[ After a minute, maybe two, she forces herself to slide one step forward. Two steps forward. Three. And then she crouches next to him, just as slow and careful as him. (It's Puma it's Puma it's Puma it's Puma she hurt Puma it's Puma it's been years.) ]
I … I'm sorry. [ There's a gap where his name should've been. She can't quite herself to say it just yet. ] Is it—did I break anything?
no subject
[ She can breathe. ]
[ After a minute, maybe two, she forces herself to slide one step forward. Two steps forward. Three. And then she crouches next to him, just as slow and careful as him. (It's Puma it's Puma it's Puma it's Puma she hurt Puma it's Puma it's been years.) ]
I … I'm sorry. [ There's a gap where his name should've been. She can't quite herself to say it just yet. ] Is it—did I break anything?