She looked for me as if I wouldn't be there.
Hopeful eyes searching the
aisles for one small speck
of blonde hair.
She boarded the placeholder with a lack of breath and a lack of
faith in herself.
Faith that maybe she had
been too harsh,
maybe she had said
all the wrong words.
Faith that I would be okay.
I, being present, served as an
indicator that I, was okay.
I was not.
I am not.
But that is okay.
