When sit beside her

eryone says you’re not talkative, but with me, you talk a lot. We sit for hours, like afternoon slowly becoming evening, just speaking, laughing, breathing in the same air. I thought that meant something. But then you sit next to her— your voice changes. It becomes lighter, faster, warmer. You speak and speak and I hear your laughter mixing with hers. I sit in the front chair, turn my face away, but still watching you hoping you’ll notice me, hoping you’ll look for me. You don’t. You don’t even try to talk to me. And I don’t know what to call this feeling— maybe jealousy, maybe something deeper, something quiet that hurts more because it’s silent. I saw you as comfort, as my safe place, as my best friend. But you— you saw me like a passing cloud, just here for a moment, easy to forget once the sky cleared.