The Marks They Leave Behind

January

Her presence felt thinner in January.

For once, Henry wasn't eager to see Elizabeth.

Classes had resumed on the second Monday of January, and the first seminar of the semester was scheduled for the day after. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her—he did!—but he worried it might be more than a little bit awkward. How was he supposed to look her in the face after the dreams he'd been having? How was he supposed to hold a conversation with her after picturing her lips all over his body, after imagining her mouth and tongue bringing him to completion? And although rationally he accepted there was no way she could know about his dreams, the thought continued to plague him: What if she did?

But the Elizabeth who turned up to that first seminar wasn't the same Elizabeth whom he'd spoken to before Christmas break. It was hard to describe it precisely, how she had changed, as elusive as trying to depict a scent through words alone. But her presence felt thinner somehow. Like someone had removed half of her essence—the thing that made her her—and had topped up the rest with rarefied air. Still Elizabeth, in a way, but translucent.

She sat in silence throughout the discussion and stared vacantly at the blank page of her notepad while she rolled the capped pen that she held between both her hands back and forth, like she were testing an axle, first in forward motion and then in reverse. Initially, he thought maybe she was just thinking, or given that they'd already gone over the points last semester, maybe she didn't consider a contribution worth her breath, but when Dean presented an argument that she could have obliterated in a single word and she didn't even attempt to challenge it, he started to become concerned.

Maybe she and Josh had split up. Maybe their trip to the Hamptons hadn't gone well and she'd finally realised what an ass Josh truly was.

The thought reared its head before he could suppress it. It was selfish, and although he would have loved nothing more than for her to break up with Josh, he didn't want to see her hurting just so that he no longer had reason to feel jealous.

The moment the clock struck six, the students pushed their chairs back from the table, their movements so sharp in their eagerness to leave that the chair legs scraped and screeched across the floorboards. Elizabeth snatched up her notebook, slung the strap of her satchel over one shoulder, and strode towards the crush of other students that funnelled towards the door.

"Elizabeth?" he called after her.

She froze, her shoulders tensed towards her ears.

While the crowd beyond her filtered away, she turned to face him, slowly, perhaps needing time to muster the strained smile that she now wore.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She gave a quick nod. "Fine."

Her smile was a touch too forced, her tone a touch too bright.

He leant back against the desk and folded his arms loosely across his chest. He eyed her.

"How was your Christmas?" he asked.

"Great." She nodded again.

"And your trip?"

"Perfect."

The silence dragged.

The clock above the door clunk...clunk...clunked.

Her fingers fidgeted against the base of her satchel strap.

Then—

"I've gotta..." She tilted her head towards the door.

Seconds passed.