The Day the Masks Fell

We were simple once friends, no tremor beneath the skin. Then something shifted. The air thickened, eyes lingered too long, and every laugh hid a truth we refused to name. We danced in half-words, throwing signals like smoke thick enough to choke on, thin enough to deny. Until the day she said it. Her voice was a match. My answer the strike. “So do I.” She’s a fragile flower, petals trembling even under rain, and I… I became the storm’s enemy. If the world claws at her, it will find my hands instead. She says she hates the world, but when my shadow is near, her eyes shift as if hatred forgets her for a moment. I know she’s not broken just scarred. And maybe, I can be the one who welds her back into her own fire. I love her. Not the idea, not the illusion her. Even when she’s thorned. Especially when she’s thorned.