Immunity

Bags (Sofia)

Every second counts

I don't wanna talk to you anymore

---

We never really talked about it. Iris was at my apartment two days after, grabbing my face and kissing me with more conviction than the last time. I forgot to ask what this all was.

Each time after that we had a new excuse. Coffee. Study. TV. Until we got too consumed by each other and we kissed until one of us let go.

It's a conversation difficult to start. Sometimes I would just openly stare at her, wishing I could read whatever was on her mind. Sometimes I realized just how easy I was to read, the strength of me holding back my thoughts showing on my face, and wished she would be the one to reach out, but I knew she wouldn't.

A couple of weeks after I was sure this couldn't keep going, so I invited Iris to my place. We were drinking cheap rosé on my living room floor. I had discussed this with my friend and had the perfect speech at the tip of my tongue, no rushing and no cutting corners. But the alcohol was starting to get soaked up in my brain and the words weren't in the right order anymore.

She pulls me down when the bottle is over and I want to savor the feeling of having her against me. I'm usually not the type to run from this situation. I know that we are having fun, but when we are kissing my cheeks get flushed and I know it's not just a casual thing for me and I don't know if she is ready for all that. Attraction was easier to understand than love.

I push her until she is far enough that I can breathe and she pouts at the lack of contact. It turns deeper when I inhale and start talking instead of exhaling.

"What are we doing?"

"Making out silly." her laugh is too sweet and it reminds me of the times when she used to pretend she was dumber to protect herself. Like a mask falls over her and someone else takes over.

"I'm serious Iris. What are we? What are you?" I have no right to ask that and that only hits me when she starts walking away from me like a wounded animal.

"I'm your friend. I'm just... I'm... I'm not..."

I understood what she meant right away. I didn't have it in me to be the bigger person. For the first time ever, I didn't want to be seeing, near her. I just wanted her out.

Iris grabs her purse and the tote bag she carries around full of books and walks out the door when I refuse to look at her again.

When I can hear my own breathing in the empty space, I realize this time I might have been the one who wrote the end.

---

I guess this could be worse

Walkin' out the door with your bags