She stood behind me on the stairwell, not putting her hand on my shoulder, not whispering in my ear, not touching me or saying anything at all. But I heard her carefully padded feet pound mercilessly on the carpeted stairs.
I had paused, momentarily indefinitely, waiting for her. I wanted to turn but did not. I wanted to embrace her but would not. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be alright, but could not. For it wasn't going to be alright for anyone, except for those few billions lucky enough to exist outside my head.
I was doomed.
I continued down those stairs flawlessly, out the door, planning to return only after a very long eternity. I had seen a ghost in her eyes as we stood on the stairwell, and that ghost reminded me of things I could not remember, a year ago when everything made sense.